


Lightning Chemistry

by Madriddler



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, BDSM, Barebacking, Daddy Kink, Dom Blaise Zabini, Dom Tom Riddle, Explicit Sexual Content, Kink Negotiation, M/M, OMC - Freeform, Slytherin Harry Potter, Sub Draco Malfoy, Sub Harry, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-03-06 23:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 95,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13421571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madriddler/pseuds/Madriddler
Summary: During a freak hurricane, five-year-old Tom Riddle was somehow separated into two beings. One stayed and grew into the infamous Lord Voldemort. But the other, the other somehow found his way fifty years to the future. Growing in an orphanage along with a boy named Harry Potter, young Riddle grew fascinated with the boy. And in that fascination, grew a goal: Harry Potter will belong to Tom Riddle. However, many obstacles stand in the way including a cautious Dumbledore, and the other Tom, Lord Voldemort himself, who wants to kill Tom's Harry.





	1. Chapter 1

Lightning Chemistry

Chapter One

Tom Riddle, age 5, hated the orphanage he lived in. Wool’s Orphanage was an awful place for the small child. Independent, he barely cried or give a fuss, so the caretaker Mrs. Cole barely paid any attention to him. The children did not talk to him, not that he wanted them to. They kept away from him due to strange events that occurred around the tall boy. Sometimes a boy’s toy would break or disappear, a girl that Tom did not like would lose her doll, which somehow ended up in the attic; the bed of a boy caught on fire in the middle of the night. Though Tom did not care. They left him alone, and if they didn’t, he would take some possessions from them to keep them away.

One day, however, a very unusual, freakish, thing happened. It was raining outside, sheets of rain slamming against the window of Tom’s bedroom, lighting flashing the skyline every minute or so, the thunder rattling the orphanage as electricity coursed through the air. While all this happened, the young Riddle was in his room, sitting on his bed. He recently took a book from a boy a couple of years older than him, and decided to read it as he was very, very intelligent for his age. His bed was right against the window, the sharp sound of rain splattering against it was relaxing to the young boy, the frequent lightning providing extra light as he read the book too advance for a child his age.

They said that it is a hurricane, or something like it. Very unusual for Britain, hurricanes are supposed to be an American problem Mrs. Cole complained as she made sure all the kids were down at the basement as the storm intensified. Although Tom did not go with them, he didn’t want to. He just wanted to sit and read and experience this freakish phenomenon in the comfort of his bare room. Besides, it did not seem so bad. It was just a little water and a breeze.

Then his window shattered.

Tom gave a yell of surprised, and did his best to shield his face with the book as he did his best to back away. However, the precise moment he moved, as if Thor or Zeus was aiming at him directly, a powerful purple lightning bolt struck into the room, hitting the boy.

The pain was overwhelming. He could feel his flesh burn, bones cook, and organs sizzle. He felt as if he was being pulled roughly by both sides, Thor and Zeus using his body as a tug-of-war rope before, somehow, he felt himself starting to split. His head was pounding, his brain feeling as if he was being ripped apart, downward and downward the rip went. Tom could feel his body going numb, the pain edging away. He thought his vision would double, that he could turn his head to see half of his body standing bloodied and burnt to a crisp, but when he got enough control to turn his head a couple of inches, he screamed.

There, standing looking perfectly untouched was him. Another him. There were two Toms! The two stared at each other for a second that seemed to last an eternity. They stared at each other’s handsome faces, before looking at their hands. Though Tom was just struck by an angry bolt of lightning, both Toms were untouched! Not even a blemish on their skin! But then, why were they’re two of them? What happened?

Before Tom could ask, before he could question the logic of how there could be two Tom Riddles standing in the same room, he felt himself flying away. Into the air, through the hurricane. Lightning continued to strike at Tom, but none of them hurt. He felt very strange. Was he dead? No, he can’t be dead. The other Tom is living, so he has to be living too. But living how? He could feel his body changing, it was warping, losing form. His skin and clothes were becoming the same shade of angry purple that the lightning bolt that hit him was.

He was flying higher and higher, through the clouds, and through the atmosphere. He was raising and raising, the land beneath him becoming smaller and smaller. His vision became strange. He wasn’t sure how to describe it. There wasn’t the sky, or stars, or even the moon. But colors. A collage of colors that mixed and weaved together before clashing violently. Tom felt he was traveling. But couldn’t think of where. The colors continued to rush against him, melding and clashing at the same time as he continued to travel to… wherever.

Then, he started to fall. The colors started to fade, going out of his vision, being replaced by fluffy white clouds and a blue hue sky beneath him. The buildings he was falling towards looked strange, alienlike to the young Riddle. He could feel his cosmic body taking shape again, his senses began to return as he felt the rush of air pushing against him as he fell, his clothes billowing in the wind. The buildings were closer now, and they looked so foreign to Riddle. They were taller, shinier, newer. The boy could not begin to make sense of it when, as suddenly as the lightning struck him, he hit the ground.

It hurt. But not much. His whole body was sore as if he slept funny in bed. He looked around, he was in a busy street, filled with people wearing funny and odd clothing. There were barely any men in suits, women were wearing pants, and… some had these contraptions that blared out noise. The cars, if they were cars, looked totally different as well. Riddle was confused, he was lost. He had no idea where he was. Finding the first person, a woman wearing a hideous pink dress with curly blonde hair carrying what seemed to be a giant purse on her arm, he asked, “Excuse me, ma’am, where am I?”

“Ugh, get lost kid, I’m late to a meeting,” the woman said rudely.

Tom did not like that. How dare she acted that way! “Excuse me,” he said again. “I’m lost and I don’t know where I am.”

“Yeah, feel for you kid, but I’m late so—” She gave a shriek as the purse split open, money and make-up falling out along with a notepad. “You little shite!” she screamed, kicking Tom away. “Officer! Officer! That kid tried to rob me!”

“I didn’t—” Tom was cut off as two men wearing black uniforms ran up to the boy, each taking an arm.

“Alright kid, where’s your folks?” one of the officers asked.

“I don’t have any—look, I am sorry, but I do not know where I am,” Tom said, doing his best to keep his calm.

“Don’t have any? No relatives?” the same officer asked, ignoring Tom’s question.

“No, where am I?” Tom asked again.

The two officers looked at each other. Then, making a decision, they carried Tom to a car. “Well boy, you in luck,” the second officer said. “You have a home now.”

“But I don’t know where—”

“Where do you think you are lad? You stupid or something?” the second officer finally laughed.

Tom stared at the two of them, completely shocked at their behavior. It was ten minutes later he realized where they were sending him to: an orphanage.

This orphanage, however, looked completely different from the orphanage than Wool’s orphanage. It was a gray stone building with open windows. There was a playground to the side where a group of children wearing second-hand clothes were playing. Tom looked around frantically, hopelessly, as he tried to answer the single question that racked through his mind the last twenty minutes: Where was he and what the hell happened?

It was by fortunate chance that he caught a glimpse at a calendar hanging on the wall. But it couldn’t be right, no it has to be wrong. According to the calendar, it was August, 1985. But that had to be wrong, it just had to be. For not only half an hour ago was it June, in 1932. Where did the half-century go? Tom was so confused, so stumped, that he barely noticed what was going on around him. At some time, somebody asked him for his name and age, which he gave. There were papers being signed, smiles being given. The two officers looked smugly happy, as if they have saved the world, and Tom was escorted deeper into the strange orphanage. Away from everyone else, up a set of stairs, and into a small room.

It was painted light blue; the walls were completely bare except for a clock that hung on the wall. There were two dressers and a single wardrobe pressed against the wall, and two beds on opposite walls. On the dresser was a black box with a grey screen inside. It wasn’t a mirror, as on the bottom there were various buttons. “This is it,” a cheerful voice said, “your new home! Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get used to it. If you want to use the telly, keep the volume low and it must be off before nine. I’ll let you get yourself settled while I get some clothes for you.”

And the voice was gone. Tom was alone, completely confused, out of place, and strangely very, very alone. He had somehow traveled a little more than fifty years into the future in half an hour. Tom couldn’t wrap his mind around it. How was it possible? What even happened? What about that other Tom? Is he stuck in the nineteen-thirties while this Tom is in the eighties? What happened during the last fifty years?

His head was full of questions, but there were no answers to be in sight. Instead he was in another orphanage, another room, surrounded by children who’ll think he’s freakish. Sighing, Tom guessed that at the end of the day, no matter if it was the thirties or eighties, he was in the same situation. He only hoped that there were snakes around. He liked talking to them.

 

It has been two years since Tom came into the eighties through the freak hurricane, and he had adjusted to his new life. After getting “new” clothes, Tom spent the first few months living at the orphanage, named Child Care Institution, learning about what happened during the last fifty years. Reading books meant for kids older than him, Tom learned as much of what he missed. At first, the children were impressed that Tom could read such advanced books, but that impressment turned into annoyance, and fear, as the strange events surrounding him started again. He didn’t want to make friends with any of them. They annoyed him. The only people he actively spoke to were the few odd snakes he could find lying around, and even then it was to order them to do things. Just as at Wool’s Orphanage, Tom began to have a sort of collection of other children’s possessions. Dolls, toys, and weird plastic things called “action figures” all laid in a box at the top of the wardrobe. Tom somehow convinced the matron to have a small bookshelf in his bedroom, which he quickly filled with books he obtained, either at a nearby library, or through his collection of others’ possessions.

Just as he was reading two years ago in nineteen-thirty-two, Tom was reading a book as the door to his room opened. The matron walked in (Tom never bothered to learn her name), followed by a crying boy. The boy seemed to be his age with shaggy black hair and round glasses, pressed against his forehead as he did his best to wipe tears from his emerald eyes. Tom took some interest in the fact that the boy had a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead, but ultimately ignored him.

“Tom… this is Harry Potter,” the matron said sweetly. “Harry, Tom is going to be your roommate, okay? If you need any help at all, Tom will help you.”

Though still crying, the boy nodded. “Good, if you want, you can watch the telly, Tom doesn’t, just know that it has to be off by nine and don’t have it too loud,” the woman continued. The boy just cried some more and nodded. “Well, I’ll be back with the rest of your clothes. Have fun you two.” And she left.

The boy still continued to cry. It was a pathetic sight. His entire body was shaking, his voice seemed hoarse, and cheeks puffed out. “Will you shut up?” Tom snapped.

The boy stopped immediately. “S-Sorry.”

“Shut up. …Why are you crying?”

“Because—because Uncle Vernon—”

“You have an uncle, yet you’re here?”

The boy nodded. “I didn’t mean—I didn’t mean to do it—the snake told me to—it’s her fault!”

That got Tom’s interest. “What do you mean ‘the snake told me to?’” he asked.

The boy looked at him. “Nothing, “he cried out. “I didn’t say—”

“Tell me!”

The boy yipped and said quickly, “I talk to snakes and the snake told me to prank my cousin!”

“You talk to snakes?”

The boy nodded. “They find me… whisper things to me. That’s not normal, is it?”

“No, no it is not,” Tom said. “You’re a freak.”

That only got the boy crying again. “However,” Tom said above the cries. “You are not alone.”

“W-What do you mean?” the boy sniffled.

“I can speak to snakes too,” Tom said.

“You can?” the boy asked, looking hopeful.

“I can. They tell me things as well, such as where Amanda is hiding her dolls, or what Jayden did with the older girls,” Tom said. He stared at the boy. “What was your name again?”

“Harry Potter,” Harry sniffled.

“Well… Harry Potter,” Tom said. He stood off his bed and walked up to the boy. Harry only stood to his chest. “I think I’m going to keep you,” Tom said.

“Keep me?”

“Yes. You’re mine now,” Tom said, giving the boy a smooth smile. “That means that we… look out for each other.”

“You mean… you’ll be my friend?” Harry asked hopefully.

“If you’ll put it that way, yes,” Tom said. The boy smiled and shook Tom’s hand.

“Then I’ll be yours!” Harry said eagerly. “I’ll be your friend.” Tom just smirked, maybe it was a good thing that the lightning bolt struck him.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“Harry, I think you would look better with shorter hair,” Tom said. The two lived together now for a few months, and the young Riddle had to admit that having Harry around was useful, very useful. He was a natural follower, Tom told the boy to do something, and he did it. He questioned about it, sure, he even had a furious temper that Tom somewhat admired, but he was sure he could control the beast that is Harry.

“I would?” Harry asked, touching his unkempt hair.

“Yes… show off your scar in particular,” Tom said. They were in their room, as always. Harry, for some bizarre reason, actually got along with the other children. Tom would often see him playing in the playground when school was over, while the young Riddle returned to there room, reading books far more advanced and mature than a boy his age should be reading. Just another thing that separated Riddle from the rest of the children.

“My scar…” Harry said. His hand went to the lightning-bolt shaped scar that hid behind his raven hair. “You want to see my scar?” he said slowly.

“Yes, I do,” Tom said. “I think it adds character to you, Harry. Character that you’re hiding behind your long hair.”

“But, I like my hair long,” Harry frowned. “And I thought you do too, Tom.”

“I did,” Tom said. He marked his place in the book and got off of his bed. Walking towards Harry, he took a long lock of hair and moved it. “Its soft… nice to feel… but with long hair, you look girlish Harry. And I’m sure you don’t want to look girlish.”

“I look girlish?” Harry asked, frowning at his hair. “I don’t want to look like that!”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Tom smiled.

“What do I do?” Harry asked, looking at Tom for answers. The taller boy smiled and placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Easy Harry, we go get a haircut,” he said.

“With what money?” Harry frowned.

“The matron’s,” Tom said.

Harry gasped. “But wouldn’t that make her mad? It’s her money!”

“Yes, but we need it more,” Tom said. “What would the other kids think if you go running around with girlish hair? We don’t want them to think you’re a girl, do we?”

“N-No Tom, we don’t,” Harry said. But he was still clearly troubled at the thought of stealing the money. “But… can’t we wait? Until we save up enough with our chores.”

“I guess we could,” Tom shrugged. “However… how long do you think it’ll take the other kids to notice you have girlish hair?” He turned around and went back to his book. Smirking internally, he waited until Harry responded.

“Wait—wait Tom, who says I have girlish hair? Was it Amanda? Kevin? Who?” Harry asked.

“Huh? Oh it was no one really,” Tom said. “Never mind, it’s not really important, anyway.”

“Please! I need to know,” Harry said. “Who was it?”

“Do you really want to know?” Tom asked.

“I do, I do,” Harry said.

“It was that boy who hates you, what is his name again…” Tom hummed.

“Billy!” Harry gasped.

“Yes, Billy,” Tom nodded. “What a disgusting name. I heard him mocking you, planning on forcing you into a dress so you can be a real girl.”

Harry frowned, his hands went to his hair and he pulled down a lock, staring at it. “I don’t want that to happen,” he said somberly. “But I like my hair…”

“You don’t have to get rid of all of it Harry,” Tom said. He pretended to think for a moment before saying, “Why don’t you get my haircut?”

“Huh?”

“You’ll get the same haircut I have,” Tom said, indicating to his neatly cut hair that only covered half of his forehead and did not fall pass his eyes or ears. “I think you’ll look very handsome in it. The books I’ve read told me so.”

“They do?”

“Yes,” Tom said.

Harry smiled awkwardly. “But… we shouldn’t steal the money Tom,” he insisted. “That’s wrong!”

“Isn’t it also wrong for Billy to mock you for having girlish hair?” Tom asked. “He hangs out with the teenagers, remember? Who knows what sort of stuff they taught him…” Tom allowed the threat of the unknown to hang in the air. Harry was paling considerably as he worried about the unknown things Billy might do to him. Tom could see Harry’s eyes widen, his plump lips quivering before Harry bit them. Tom thought about the words his books would describe Harry: beautiful, delicate, fierce… gullible. It was too easy, honestly, but the boy had plans for the raven hair. He read something similar in one of his “adult” books, and he thought the raven hair would be the perfect subject. He was interesting, having similar abilities like Tom, and, above it all, cute. Especially when he was extremely worried about the unspoken things Billy might do to him. “It’s very easy to fix Harry,” Tom said soothingly. “All you need is a simple haircut.”

Harry frowned. He began pacing the room, looking extremely nervous. “But stealing—”

“Do you want to be mocked forever?” Tom asked. “Matron has the money…”

Harry frowned, then he stopped, as if he got an idea. He turned to Tom and surprised him by saying, “What if we steal the money from Billy and the teenagers? They have jobs! And they’re too mean to have it.”

Tom stared at Harry for some time before smiling. “That,” he said, “is an excellent idea Harry.” Harry smiled. “That is an excellent idea, Harry. Good job,” Tom went on. “Well, they should all be outside right now, right?”

Harry looked at the clock and nodded.

“Then let’s go,” Tom said. He closed his book and the two went outside their room, Tom looking extremely satisfied while Harry looked slightly less nervous. The orphanage hallways had a school-like quality to them: sterile and very unhomely. The teenagers all lived on the floor above, which was easy to get to since the whole building was unrestricted to the children. Harry frequently checked outside through the odd windows to make sure that everyone was still at the playground. It was the afternoon, all the teenagers were supposed to be at their jobs while children be in the playground.

They reached the first bedroom, and Tom lightly pushed open the door. Somehow whenever Tom opened a door it was unlocked, even if Matron locked the door seconds prior. The walls were covered with modern bands and pictures of two teenage girls Tom never bothered to learn the names to. Their beds were messy, and clothes were littered around the ground. “Where would they hide their money?” Harry asked, looking around.

“Check their drawers,” Tom said.

Harry nodded and moved to the nearest dresser. He pulled open the top drawer, revealing lots of folded underwear. He quickly pushed them aside, getting on his toes to reach deep into the draw. All he could feel was a long tube-shaped object in the back. No purse or wallet or anything. He pushed the drawer closed and went to the next one, which was filled with socks. “I found some,” Harry said, pulling out two crumbled bills. “Ten quid,” he said.

“Good,” Tom said. “Did you find anything else?”

“Nope,” Harry said, his lips popping.

“Alright Harry, let’s go to the next one,” Tom said. Harry nodded, and the two went into the next bedroom. Again they looked through the teenagers’ drawers, finding loose change and odd bills in tucked away corners. Every now and again Harry found the same weird plastic thing in the back of some drawers. They came in different textures, all felt very weird, and Harry wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull them out to have a better look. At the end of their thieving spree, Tom’s and Harry’s pockets were stuffed with money. They quickly ran back to their room and laid out all the money on Tom’s bed.

“Let’s see… we have…” Tom began counting the money. “Forty pounds even, good job Harry.” Tom smiled at Harry as he separated the money, giving twenty to Harry and keeping twenty to himself. “Well, come on,” Tom said.

“W-What?”

“We’re going to get you a haircut, remember?” Tom said.

“Oh, right,” Harry said. “We’re going now?”

“Why not? It’s only three,” Tom shrugged, and he walked out of their room, expecting Harry to just follow him. Which he did. They ran into the matron on the first floor, right before they were able to go outside.

“Where are you two going?” she asked, her arms crossed, and a disappointed look on her face. “Children should be outside at the playground or in their rooms finishing homework.”

“But our homework is finished,” Harry said.

“Then you should be outside playing with the other children, Harry,” the matron said.

“We will,” Tom said. “But right now, Harry needs a haircut.”

“Why? Ain’t nothing wrong with his hair,” Matron said.

“It’s too long,” Harry said.

“Then I’ll get my scissors and cut it myself,” Matron said.

Harry shook his head quickly. “No, no, don’t do that! We have money!”

“Oh do you? Let’s see it then,” Matron said. Harry looked over at Tom, who nodded.

“We saved up,” Tom said, pulling out some of the money they found. “From our chores.”

Matron looked at them suspiciously, but shrugged. “Fine, go get your haircut. Just be back before dinner or you’ll get none.”

“We will,” Harry promised, and the two walked out of the door. Tom led Harry down the street, deeper into London. There was a barber shop ten minutes from the orphanage that Harry barely visited since Matron would rather cut the children’s hair by herself and save money. Tom, however, went there all the time as he somehow always had money for haircuts. Harry supposed this is how he got the money.

The barber shop was blandish, four barber chairs sitting in front of a mirror wall, a row of black seats opposite of it filled with people waiting for their haircuts. The two took their seats and waited. “What do I tell them?” Harry asked.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” Tom said. Harry nodded, a little relieved that he didn’t have to talk to any of the barbers of what he wanted, because he wasn’t exactly sure. Soon it was their turn. The man who was going to do Harry’s hair stared at the boy before looking around. “Where’s your folks?” he grunted.

“We’re from the orphanage,” Tom said.

“Oh. What do you want?” the man asked. Tom told the man how he wanted their hair as he sat into the second free seat. The barbers nodded, and Harry took off his glasses. He kept his eyes close to keep any hair from falling into his eyes. He could hear the scissors snipping feverously, paused only by the spray bottle and razors before more snipping. Harry felt a sharp tug with every snip, and could just envision his hair falling down to his lap, gathering in a pile. “When’s the last time you got a haircut, boy?” his barber grunted.

“Umm… last year?” Harry said questionably.

The man grumbled something about “stupid kid” before continuing the haircut. Harry opened his eyes half an hour later, to see a person he did not recognize. The boy in the mirror has the same small face, the same mouth, the same nose, same green eyes, and same lightning-shaped scar… but his hair was short, neat, slightly stylized like Tom’s. He looked from the mirror to Tom, and saw the boy smiling. They had the same haircut!

“There,” Tom said after they left the barber shop. “Now we can see your scar.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile. His hair was less girlish now. His smile increased by some of the compliments he gotten, but the other kids couldn’t help but point out his scar. “Nice haircut Harry, but since when did you have a scar?”

“Nice haircut, but what’s with the scar?”

“Harry! You have a scar!”

“What an ugly scar.”

“Scar, scar, scarface scar!”

Harry frowned and spent the rest of the day in his room, glaring at his reflection. _Why did I get this stupid haircut? Now they don’t stop pointing out my scar!_ He thought angrily.

But Tom liked it. He liked Harry’s scar very much. “Your scar gives you character Harry, you shouldn’t hide it,” he said. Harry nodded, but he couldn’t help but think about the other kids’ insults. If only his bangs were an inch longer…

During dinner, Harry kept his head down, not talking to anyone, even Tom, and he went to bed before Tom. The next day, when Harry woke up, he looked in his mirror and yelled.

Tom woke with a start and glared at Harry. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

“My hair!” Harry shrieked. He turned towards Tom. It was still the same style as Tom’s, still unusually neat despite the small amount of bed hair… but it was longer. Two inches longer, his bangs now easily hiding his scar again. “It grew back,” Tom said.

“Yeah… you can’t see my scar anymore!” Harry said.

Tom frowned at that, but he stared at Harry. He had to admit, the hair looked good on the boy. Harry saw his friend frowning and asked, “You’re not angry ‘bout my hair, are you?”

“No, no it looks nice,” Tom said. “Much better than your long hair that reached your shoulders.”

“Does it make me look girlish?” Harry asked.

Tom laughed. “No Harry, no, you look the opposite of girlish.” Harry smiled and looked in the mirror.

“Then,” he said, “I think I’ll like to keep my hair like this from now on. Alright?”

“That means you’re going to need to go to that barber shop as much as I do Harry,” Tom said.

“I know, but we don’t need to worry about that,” the boy smiled. “We have the teenager’s money for that. And anyone else who bullies us.”

“Exactly Harry,” Tom smirked. “Good boy.”

Harry smiled at the compliment and looked at the mirror again. The more he stared at his hair, the more he really liked it. Although… he turned to look at his clothes. They were all disheveled things. Second-hand shirts a size too big, pants that needed belts just to keep from falling. They really did not match his new hair. Tom, too, seemed to realize the problem. “Your clothes just don’t match your hair Harry,” he said.

“Yeah, but what can we do?” Harry frowned. “Matron gives us all our clothes.”

“Maybe…” Tom hummed. He gave Harry a secret smile, “Harry…”

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember, whenever the snakes come find us and they talk?” Tom asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said.

“Well, they give me money that they find,” Tom went on. He walked to their wardrobe, which Tom took full possession of, and opened it. Fresh, clean clothes hung on hangers, pants were folded beneath them. Harry gave a small gasp as he stared at the clean, new clothes. No wonder Tom always looked so smart. But… how did he hide this from Harry?

Tom picked out a green shirt and jeans, and gave them to Harry. “Here, you can wear these,” he said. “It matches your eyes.”

“Thanks…I think,” Harry said. He looked down at the clothes. “Will they fit?”

“Better than your clothes,” Tom said. “Go on Harry, I’m not watching.” And to prove that, Tom turned to face the window, his head going to his book. Harry dressed in Tom’s clothes and was surprised. They didn’t fit completely, but they were loads better than the second-hand clothes Matron gives him. Tom turned and smiled at Harry. “You look good Harry,” he said.

“I do?”

“Yeah, you do,” Tom said. “If you want, you can keep them. As you see, I have more than enough clothes for myself.”

“How do you—do you mean it?” Harry asked. A haircut yesterday and new clothes today? Harry didn’t know what he did to make Tom so generous, but he should do more of it!

“Of course Harry,” Tom said. “You are my friend, after all. Are you?”

“Yeah! We’re friends,” Harry said.

“Then they’re yours,” Tom smiled. “Just don’t worry about how I got them.”

“O-Okay… is this another weird ability you have?”

“Just like how you can regrow your hair apparently, yes,” Tom said. He pretended to think for a moment. “In fact… if you want to, I can get you clothes that actually fit you. All you need to do is a few… favors.” Tom said, giving Harry a friendly smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “No, no, don’t answer me now Harry, just think about it, alright?”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry said.

“Great. Now, can you just a little thing for me?”

“What is it?”

“I want to see your scar,” Tom said.

Harry thought it was an odd request, but moved his hair out of the way of his scar. Tom quickly grabbed a brush, off Harry’s dresser and combed the hair away. “I like seeing your scar Harry, it gives you character,” Tom whispered. “So, when we’re alone, can you keep your hair out of the way for me?”

“Yeah, alright,” Harry shrugged. It was a weird request, but a fair one. Harry supposed that Tom just liked looking at his scar. Maybe it was just another way that they connected, a way that builds both them up.

Tom smiled. “Good boy,” he said, placing the brush down. Harry looked at him oddly, but shrugged it off. Tom was always strange, using sayings that old people say like “good lad” and such. Maybe this was Tom’s way of moving away from the silly old sayings and towards modern talk.

If that was the case, then Harry was more determined to help his friend and be called a “good boy.” Besides, he’ll get better clothes out of it, which seemed like a major plus to the seven-year-old. “I don’t need to think,” Harry smiled. “I’ll do any favors you need me to do.”

“Great, that makes me so happy Harry,” Tom smiled. “You really are a great friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up! The story is going to take place during the first year (shortly) and fourth year (mainly) so prepare for that ;)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

By the time they were both eight, Tom has replaced all of Harry’s wardrobe. It was weird, having Tom buy all of his clothes, but he made up with it for doing odd favors. Some were easy for Harry to do: get him this book, pass the bread, give me the juice. While others seemed a bit more like chores, but Harry did them all the same. After all, the clothes were worth it. Harry had to do their laundry, a task Matron expects all the children to do by themselves. It was annoying, at times, but then he would just look at their new, clean clothes and compare them to the second-hand clothes that Matron brought them and it was all worth it. Another request, which was strange, was that Harry had to always show his scar to Tom first thing in the morning, and to one of the snakes that find them. Harry understood why he had to show his scar to Tom, the boy liked it and it showed character on Harry’s face. But why snakes?

Whenever they were in desperate need for money, Tom would simply talk Harry into going with him around the orphanage and take spare change they find lying around. They would often use the money for haircuts, Tom likes to make sure Harry’s hair is exactly the way he wanted it and visiting a nearby bookstore where Harry roamed the kid’s section with glee as Tom went to the more adult section.

The closer Harry and Tom became, Harry couldn’t help but notice their differences from the other kids. The two boys started to section themselves off from the others. Tom spent most of his time in his room after school, and even during which, he kept to himself, only talking to Harry. Harry, meanwhile, talked with the other kids, but found himself growing a little bored with them. He liked them, he wants to think they’re friends as they play, but the fact that they weren’t different like Harry and Tom made them a little boring in Harry’s eyes.

The raven-haired boy would occasionally stay with Tom in their room instead of going out to play. He would watch the television for a bit while Tom read, then they would go outside and look for the snakes. It was a nice habit, a happy habit, a habit that Harry found himself easily falling into. Which was why Harry did not find it strange at all when Tom asked him to do another favor.

“I want you to go into one of the teenage boys’ rooms, and steal one of their magazines,” Tom said. “I’m currently reading a story where the protagonist hides magazines under his bed. I want to know why people would do that, so can you get me one of those magazines, Harry?”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry said, smiling at his friend.

“Good.”

“Umm… do you know who I should get it from?” Harry asked.

Tom frowned for a moment. “In my book… the protagonist is called a ‘pig’ several times—”

“Does he look like a pig? Cause then I can go to Daniel’s—”

“It’s just an expression,” Tom said. “I believe it might due to the fact that he is perverted, which means he thinks nasty and dirty thoughts about other people.”

“Oh… so maybe… Jayden?” Harry asked.

“Excellent idea,” Tom said. He marked his place and swung his legs off the side of his bed. “Would you like me to come with you, Harry?”

“No,” Harry smiled, shaking his head. “I can do this by myself.”

“Alright, I’ll be here,” Tom shrugged, and he returned to his book.

Harry closed the door behind him and looked around. Jayden’s room was a floor above, and he should be downstairs with the other teenagers doing homework. He made his way to the stairway and went upstairs, walking very slowly and casually in case a teenager ran into him. Their names were all taped onto their doors, so it was easy for Harry to find the room he was looking for.

It was the same size as Harry’s and Tom’s, but with a wholly different personality. Bands and movie posters adorned the walls, and the floor was completely littered with clothes and garbage. Both boys’ beds were unmade, and socks that seemed to haven’t been washed in weeks were laying on top of the bundled-up covers. Harry did his best tiptoeing around the clothes and garbage lying around, wondering how the heck can somebody live like this. He also wondered why the heck does Tom need a certain magazine hidden under the bed, and how he would know if Jayden had such magazines. Harry reached the nearest bed and looked around. He couldn’t see any noticeable magazines on the bed, or under the messy covers… even under the crusty socks proved nothing. He got to his knees and looked between the mattress and springboard. He gave a small gasp as there, stuck between them and barely noticeable, was the corner to a magazine.

“How did he…never mind, maybe the snakes told him,” Harry muttered to himself as he did his best to grip the corner and pull. It slid out slowly, revealing it’s cover inch by inch. Harry’s grimace increased as he stared at more of the picture. _Why would Tom want a magazine with a naked girl on the cover?_ He thought to himself. With the magazine fully out, Harry took a moment to flip through it. Page after page it was nothing but naked women. It made Harry sick staring at it. But this is what Tom wanted, so he stuffed the magazine in his shirt and ran off.

“That was fast,” Tom commented as Harry closed the door. Harry just nodded, trying to fight off the nausea that threatened to explode inside him, as he handed Tom the magazine.

“ _This_ is what they meant?” Tom said, looking a bit horrified as he stared at the cover. “Absolutely disgusting.” He flipped through the first few couple of pages. “All these women is such poses—it’s awful! Jayden actually _likes_ staring at these? Why? This doesn’t even deserve to be trash!” He looked over at Harry. “Harry, would you kindly hand me the wastebasket?”

Harry grabbed the metallic wastebin and handed it to Tom. Tom dropped the magazine in there, and pointed a finger at it. Harry watched, and his eyes widened as a spark of flames appeared. It quickly engulfed the magazine, turning it into ash, before disappearing.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Harry gasped.

Tom shrugged. “I just wanted the thing on fire,” he said. He went back to the book and examined it for a moment before opening it again. “Besides,” he said, looking up at Harry. “You are way cuter than any of those naked women.”

“I—what?” Harry said. For some reason he could feel heat coming to his cheeks and ears. Why did Tom say something like that?

 

Dumbledore did not know what was wrong. For the past two years, something just felt off to him. He wondered the corridors of Hogwarts Castle late at night, trying to figure out what exactly was “wrong.” One late night, around two in the morning, Dumbledore found himself nearing a forgotten tower that students are never allowed in. The tower was locked shut by an old wooden door and metal lock. Procuring one of the older keys, which was just as black and metallic as the lock’s, Dumbledore unlocked the door to the tower and opened it. Inside was a spiraling staircase, which led to a small circular room. In the room was a book bound in peeling black dragon-hide, and a small silver inkpot from which protrudes a long, faded quill. These were the Quill of Acceptance and the Book of Admittance.

Every Hogwarts student who entered these halls had their names written in the Book by the Quill, though nobody quite knows how they work. Dumbledore did not know what brought him to this tower, but here he stood, staring at the yellowing pages. Carefully, he pulled out his wand and tapped the book. Its pages were left untouched since the Founders of Hogwarts placed the book. Dumbledore did not want to risk damaging it. The book opened to the last page and Dumbledore read it carefully.

_Harry Potter_

_Hermione Granger_

_Ron Weasley_

_Neville Longbottom_

_Draco Malfoy_

_Theodore Nott_

_Wayne Hopkins_

_Justin Flinch-Fletchey_

All names of Hogwarts’ eventual students. Dumbledore continued down the list until, quite suddenly, the Quill of Acceptance sprung to life. Dumbledore sit back to watch the rare sight, many headmasters and headmistresses spent hours in this tower for a chance to see the Quill of Acceptance and Book of Admittance write down a new student’s name. The quill floated towards the page and began writing the name. Dumbledore leaned back, hoping that the book wouldn’t shut on the Quill, which it usually did when the student didn’t show enough magic yet, or was a Squib.

But that did not happen this time. This time, the Quill wrote the name neatly and returned to its silver inkpot. Dumbledore waited a moment, just to make sure that the Book of Admittance has accepted the new name, then sprung to his feet, giddy and curious to see the new name of his new student.

_Tom Riddle_

No… no that can’t be… how is that possible? Dumbledore stared at the name. It must be a trick, it has to be, but the book was never wrong before. But then, how could this be? The last reports of Lord Voldemort was that he was hiding in Albania, he shouldn’t be back in London, or even close to eleven years old.

Dumbledore couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing, or how to deal with it. How is it that Lord Voldemort’s name is in the book? Is this was what troubled Dumbledore? Because if so, seeing the man’s name did not quell it. He looked back at the book, frowning. No, it had to be wrong. It just had to be. The best thing to do would be to just forget about it.

Yes. Lord Voldemort is in Albania, weaker than ever before. The book made a mistake, that’s all, it’s charms must be fading after thousand years of use. Nodding to himself, though still very troubled, Dumbledore left the tower, locking the door behind him.

 

By the time they were eleven, both Harry and Tom grew into a comfortable relationship with the other. Tom still brought Harry’s clothes, and regular haircuts, and Harry did the tidy work around their room, which never really gotten that messy on the worst days. Tom has moved onto to reading far more advanced books in both maturity and intelligence. Surprisingly, Tom liked romance a lot. He had a private collection of books they took from the library, all of which he hid from the Matron. He did not even showed them to Harry, only telling the boy that “he wasn’t old enough” for the books yet. Harry just shrugged and accepted it, after all Tom was older than him, and far more intelligent and mature. He knew what was best for Harry.

It was a cloudy day during the summer. The clouds were gray, and threatening to rain, so Matron kept the children inside. The teenagers were still allowed to go outside to their jobs or go out, but the children were all told to either play in their rooms, or in one of the big rooms. Just don’t make any noise. Harry and Tom decided to keep themselves company, so Harry locked their door and they fell into a comfortable silence as Harry decided to watch television as Tom read.

It was an hour later when the Matron knocked on their door. “Harry, Tom, there is someone here to see you… why is your door locked?”

Harry sprang up and opened the door. Behind it was a sour-looking Matron, along with a strangely dressed old woman. She had on a robe-looking thing and a pointed hat. “Hello, Mr. Potter, Mr. Riddle,” she said briskly. “I am Professor McGonagall.” She stepped into the room and looked back at the matron. “Thank you very much, I would like to speak to them alone, if you would.”

“Yeah, yeah of course,” Matron said, closing the door.

The woman turned to Harry. “Mr. Potter, I must confess, I am surprised to see you are here. We thought you were living with your Aunt and Uncle.”

Harry frowned and looked at Tom. Tom said, “They abandoned him here when he was seven.”

“I see,” Professor McGonagall frowned. “That is very unfortunate Harry, your mother would be raving if she heard what her sister did.”

“You know my parents?” Harry gasped.

“Of course I knew them, I taught them,” Professor McGonagall said. “It was such a shame the day they died…we were so certain that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wouldn’t find them.”

“What… what are you talking about?” Harry frowned.

Professor McGonagall looked at Harry, as if slightly scandalized. “You mean they haven’t told you anything before they’ve abandoned you at this orphanage?”

“No… my parents died in a car crash,” Harry said slowly.

“A car crash? A car crash kill Lily and James Potter? How insulting!” Professor McGonagall said. “Harry… your parents were wizards. Magical people, just as the two of you are.”

Both Harry and Tom stared at Professor McGonagall strangely. “Haven’t you noticed any unusual things happen around you? Any unusual going-ons?”

“My hair grew back over night after a haircut,” Harry said. “And Tom accidently put something on fire!”

“I see,” Professor McGonagall said. “That, Harry, is magic.”

“Magic… you mean we did magic?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Professor McGonagall said. She pulled out two letters and gave them to Harry and Tom. “There is a school for people like us called Hogwarts,” she went on. “I am a teacher there, as well as the Deputy Headmistress. At Hogwarts, we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. However… thievery will not be tolerated.”

“Thievery?” Tom asked.

Professor McGonagall pulled out a wand and flicked it towards the wardrobe. It opened, and the box filled with Tom’s collection flew out. “I will assume that not all of those possessions are yours,” she said. “Before you two head to Hogwarts, you will return the objects to their owners, along with your apologies.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry said quickly.

“How are we going to pay? We haven’t got any money,” Tom said.

“That is easily remedied,” Professor McGonagall said as she pulled out a leather money-pouch from her pocket. “There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to buy books and robes. You might have to buy some of your spellbooks and so on secondhand, but—”

“Where do you buy spellbooks?” Tom interrupted, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking McGonagall and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

“In Diagon Alley,” Professor McGonagall said. “I have your list of books and school equipment with me, along with the key to your family’s vault in Gringotts, Harry—”

“You’re coming with us?”

“My parents left me money?” Both boys asked at the same time.

Professor McGonagall chose to answer Harry’s question first. “Yes Harry, of course they did. Headmaster Dumbledore was holding on it for safe keeping until you come to Hogwarts.” She pulled out a small key and gave it to Harry, who muttered thanks and stared at it. “And yes, I will certainly come with you two if you—”

“We don’t need you,” Tom said. “I’m used to doing this for myself and Harry. We go round London on our own all the time. How do you get to Diagon Alley—ma’am?”

Harry thought that Professor McGonagall would insist upon accompanying them, but instead she handed him two lists of equipment, and gave them directions to a place called the Leaky Cauldron. “You two will be able to see it, however muggles—non-magic people—will not. Ask for Tom the barman, easy enough for you to remember.”

Harry glanced at Tom, frowning slightly.

“How do we get to Hogwarts? When do we go there?” Harry asked, hoping to pacify Tom.

“Instructions for that can be found in your second piece of parchment found in your envelopes,” Professor McGonagall said. “You will leave from King’s Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket for each of you in your envelopes. Tom nodded.

McGonagall got to her feet. “If there isn’t anything—”

“Harry and I can talk to snakes,” Tom said. “They find us, they whisper to us. Is that normal for a wizard?”

“It is unusual,” Professor McGonagall said after some deliberation, “but not unheard of.”

“Good-bye Harry, Tom. I will see you two in Hogwarts.”

Then she left.

Harry and Tom looked at each other for a moment. Harry looked at Tom’s box and mouthed ‘magic.’ Tom nodded and opened his envelope. Inside was a letter of welcome to Hogwarts, as well as a ticket to platform nine-and-three-quarters. Harry opened his list of equipment and read over it. “We can have a cat! Or an owl!” he said a little excitedly.

“More importantly… we get to have wands,” Tom said, smirking up to Harry. The two boys smiled at each other. “What time is it?” Tom asked.

“Past four,” Harry said.

“Alright… we’ll go tomorrow,” Tom said. “However, there is something that we need to talk about, Harry. Something that will help both of us.”

“What is it?” Harry asked seriously. He folded his letter and list and returned them to the envelope, along with his key. _My parents left me this._

“When we’re at Hogwarts, I want us both to do our best,” Tom said. “I don’t know how the housing will work, but we must be in the same dormitory.”

“That’s a given Tom,” Harry smiled sweetly.

Tom nodded. “While there… I want us to do something daily, something I read about. Basically, Harry, I want you to kiss me every night starting tonight. It will help us focus during the next day.”

“It does?” Harry asked.

“Of course,” Tom smiled. “Have I ever proven you wrong?”

“No, you haven’t,” Harry said. “But… isn’t kissing supposed to be a thing between a boy and a girl? We’re both boys.”

“Boys can kiss each other,” Tom said. “My books even tell me that kissing a boy is _much_ more satisfying than kissing a girl. There’s a certain… roughness that girls can’t give. Besides Harry, we’ll be helping each other. With every kiss, we’ll be able to concentrate and focus on learning magic.”

“I guess so…” Harry said. “But aren’t kisses supposed to be, you know, between couples? Or people who’re dating?”

“Harry… you don’t want to help me?” Tom asked, looking hurt.

“I do!” Harry said quickly, looking as if he was going to panic. Tom motioned for the boy to come to him. Harry did so and turned his back to him, sitting in front of Tom. Tom sat behind him, his legs spread around Harry, and he began massaging Harry’s shoulders. “I just want us to do the best we can at this school,” Tom whispered.

“This is our chance, Harry, in order to do something great, to make something of our lives. Hogwarts proves that we are different from all those muggles, we’re better than them. Higher. But we need to learn. Kissing each other every night will help us learn more, Harry. It’ll help us become better wizards than anyone else.” Tom’s touches were smooth, tough, yet gentle. He knew Harry’s trigger points and made sure to press them all. The boy melted under his touches, he leaned against Tom’s touches, his mouth hanging open as silent gasps escape. “Hogwarts is our chance Harry… you and me, forever.”

“Forever….”

“Yeah,” Tom whispered. “But we need to kiss every night. If you want, I’ll massage you as well, make you feel loose before we kiss. What do you say Harry?”

“Y-Yeah… okay,” Harry nodded. He could barely speak, he just felt so _good_ under Tom’s control.

“Good boy,” Tom smiled. “Very good, Harry… do you want to start tonight?”

Harry nodded.

“Then kiss me.”

Harry turned around and pressed his lips against Tom. It was awkward, nice, and felt right. The kiss, which was in reality just a peck on the lips, lasted for barely a second but both boys felt physically shocked for the next hour. They couldn’t stop smiling at each other. It was only when the Matron knocked on their door and entered that Harry jumped away from Tom, and Riddle’s smile disappeared.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The train ride to inner London was surprisingly fast. Harry and Tom left early the next day, the boys taking as much money as they could carry, deciding to have breakfast at this Leaky Cauldron place. After getting off the train, the two walked for twenty minutes until they reached Charing Cross Road. At the front of the street was what looked like a pub, with a sign that had a picture of an overfilled cauldron and the name “Leaky Cauldron” written above it. The two walked into the place.

The Leaky Cauldron reminded Tom of an old-time pub he would read about. Everything seemed to be made out of wood from the floor to the tables and chairs. The walls were stone, and had torches which, along with the chandelier and windows letting in the morning light, lit up the place. There were some people in the place, men and women in robes reading newspapers or chatting to each other. The two walked up to the barman, who was chatting with a very wide, and very big man who was wearing a moleskin overcoat.

“Excuse me,” Tom said. “Excuse me?”

Both the barman and huge man looked down at Tom and Harry. “First time here?” the barman asked.

“Yes, we want to know how to get into Diagon Alley,” Tom said.

“Yer doin’ your firs’ year shoppin’ I reckon,” the big man said. He had black shaggy hair and beard that melded together that covered a cheery face. “Name’s Rubeus Hagrid. Gamekeeper and Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts.” He offered hand to both Tom and Harry.

“I’m Tom, Tom Riddle, and this is Harry Potter,” Tom said, pointing to Harry, who waved. The entire pub seemed to stop. It was as if everyone turned to stare at the two children. No, not the two of them. Everyone turned to stare at Harry for some odd reason.

“Bless my soul, it’s Harry Potter,” the barman said and he enthusiastically went to shake Harry’s hand. “Welcome back Mr. Potter, welcome back.”

Both boys didn’t know what to say. Everyone was looking at Harry. An old woman with a pipe was putting on it without realizing it had gone out.

Then there was a great scrapping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

“Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can’t believe I’m meeting you at last.”

“So proud, Mr. Potter, I’m just so proud.”

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

“Professor Quirrell!” Hagrid said. “I didn’t know you were here. Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts.”

“P-Potter,” Professor Quirrell stammered, grasping Harry’s hand, “c-can’t t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you.”

“What subject do you teach?” Tom asked. He looked more annoyed than Harry has ever seen him.

“D-Defense A-Against the D-D-Dark Arts,” Professor Quirrell muttered. “Not that you need it, eh? Potter, hmm!” He laughed nervously.

“Yes, well,” Tom interrupted. “We’ll be having to go now. We have a lot to buy.” He turned to the barkeep. “How do we get into Diagon Alley?”

“Don’t worry Tom, I got em,” Hagrid said, standing up. “Come along, Harry, Tom.” He led them out into a small courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds. Hagrid grinned at the two. “’M sure Professor McGonagall told yer. Yer famous, Harry.”

“But why am I famous?” Harry asked. “Why did everyone know my name?”

“That’s a uh tough thing ter tell you, Harry,” Hagrid said as he pulled out a pink umbrella. “Three up… two across…” he muttered. “Right, stand back, boys.”

He tapped the wall three times with the point of the umbrella. The brick he had touched quivered—it wiggled—in the middle, a small hole appeared—it grew wider and wider—a second later, they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

“Welcome,” Hagrid said, “to Diagon Alley.”

“You didn’t answer Harry’s question,” Tom said. “Why is Harry famous?”

Hagrid frowned. “Do you remember anything ‘bout yer parents?” he asked Harry.

The boy frowned. “No… just that I look like my dad but have my mum’s eyes… and Professor McGonagall told me that they didn’t die in a car crash like Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon said.”

“Well… it begins, I suppose, with—with a person called—but it’s incredible yeh don’t know his name, everyone in our world knows—”

“Who?” Tom asked.

“Well—I don’t like sayin’ the name if I can help it. No one does.”

“Why not?”

“Gulpin’ Gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went… bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was…”

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

“Could you write it down?” Harry suggested.

“Nah—can’t spell it. All right—Voldemort.” Hagrid shuttered. “Don’ made me say it again. Anyway, this—this wizard about twenty years ago now, started lookin’ fer followers. Got ‘em, too—some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o’ power, ’cause he was gettin’ himself power, all right. Dark days, boys. Didn’t know who ter trust, didn’t dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches…terrible things happened. He was takin’ over. Yer parents fought agains’ him. Didn’ surprise anyone when he went out to kill ‘em. You-Know-Who killed ‘em. An’ then—an’ this is the real myst’ry of the thing—he tried to kill you, too.”

Harry gulped. “Me… You-Know-Who tried to kill… me?”

“Yeah, wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose. But he couldn’t do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary scar. That’s what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh—took care of yer mum an’ dad an’ yer house, even—but it didn’t work on you, an’ that’s why yer famous, Harry. Yer The-Boy-Who-Lived.”

Tom and Harry shared look. Harry reached out for Tom’s hand, who grasped it and squeezed hard supportively. “Thank you, Hagrid,” Harry said. “We’ll… we’ll see you at Hogwarts.”

Hagrid smiled cheerfully at the two of them. “Alright boys, have a good shoppin’ day,” he waved as the two boys walked through the archway.

Both boys were overwhelmed by the sights around them. The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons—All Sizes—Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver—Self-Stirring—Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, “Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they’re mad…”

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium—Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry’s and Tom’s age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. “Look! The new Nimbus Two Thousand—it’s the fastest one yet!”

“So we really are going to be riding broomsticks,” Tom whispered to Harry. He had a bored, almost disappointed look about him as they stared at the kids.

Harry shrugged and smiled at his friend, trying to make him happy. There were shops that sold robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels’ eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon. …And there at the back, towering over everything, was a snowy white building.

“I’m guessing that’s the bank Professor McGonagall was telling us about,” Harry said. “Gringotts.”

“Hmm…” Tom said.

Harry frowned. “Tom, what’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing Harry,” Tom said.

Harry frowned. “You’re lying,” he said. “Tom… tell me what the matter is.” He gave a firm demand. Tom stared at him, slightly amused that Harry had the gull to demand something from Tom, but still the boy was quiet.

Instead he just continued to walk on, pulling Harry with him.

“I’m not going to let this go,” Harry said, “until you tell me what the matter is!”

“I know,” Tom muttered.

“I’m not going to say anything else until you tell me what the matter is.”

“Harry shut up,” Tom said.

“Tom—”

“SHUT UP!”

“No!” Harry stomped his foot like an impatient brat, but he didn’t care. “Tell me what the matter is! Now!” They were starting to get stares.

Tom took a step forward, his voice seething, “You want to know what the matter is Harry? It’s you—alright, it’s you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you! Everyone knows your name—everyone knows about you, your scar—a scar that’s supposed to be mine! But no, everyone knows about it, everyone-everyone loves it, adore you—you seen how those fuc-stu-damn adults acted! You’re a damn hero, and what am I? I’m supposed to be your better, your caretaker—how the fuc—hell can I do that if you’re apparently already better than me!” Tom yelled. It was a rare showcase where Tom showed his true emotions. His usual stoic face was now rage-filled, his chest was heaving, nostrils flaring, and eyes almost murderous. To any other person, the sight of Tom would scare, if not outright petrify them.

But Harry only frowned. He took a step forward and tenderly, hesitantly wrapped his arms around the raging boy. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Tom, I’m sorry. I need you… you are better than me, you are! You’re smarter, you’re more handsome… I’m not a hero. I’m just Harry, your Harry…”

“Damn right,” Tom muttered, hugging Harry tightly. “You’re mine… everything about you, is mine Harry.”

“Yours,” Harry nodded. “We’re friends,” he gave a hesitant smile. “…right? We’re still friends?”

“Of course Harry,” Tom said. “We are still friends.” He kept Harry tight to his chest. Harry started to feel comfortable. Somehow, he just did not want to move away from Tom’s grasp, as if he was made to be in Tom’s arm, he was made to be Tom’s friend.

Then their stomachs growled. Loudly. Harry blushed and bit his lip. “Sorry Tom… can we try to forget about this You-Know-Who stuff?” he asked. “I don’t want that to get between us.”

“Of course, yeah we can do that,” Tom said, nodding.

“And… and if someone tries to talk to us about that,” Harry said, thinking to himself out loud. He gave a childish smile, “We’ll yell at them to shut up!”

Tom chuckled, finally smiling, and ruffled Harry’s hair. “Good boy,” he sighed. “Come on, we need money.”

Taking Harry’s hand again, the two walked up to Gringotts’ burnished bronze doors, where standing by it wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold was a goblin. It was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside into a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Tom and Harry made for the counter.

“We’re here to take money out of Harry Potter’s safe,” Tom said.

“Do you have the key?” The goblin asked, looking down at both boys.

Harry pulled out his envelope and opened it, pulling out a tiny golden key. The goblin looked at it closely. “That seems to be in order. I’ll have someone take you down to the vaults. Griphook!”

Another goblin came and led Harry and Tom down the marble hall through a door. Harry was expecting to see a marble corridor but was surprised to see a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks towards them. They climbed in and they were off.

At first, they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn’t steering.

After going deeper, and passed an underground lake, they soon stopped beside a small door in the passage wall. The two boys got out. Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze. Harry and Tom stared at the small fortune. “All yours…” Tom said, awestruck.

Harry nodded, hoping that Tom wasn’t saying it out of jealousy. He quickly filled a bag with as much gold coins as he could before giving it to Tom and filling a second bag for himself. “Harry, what—”

“No complaining, you use that,” Harry said. Tom stared at the boy. “It’s not fair that I have this fortune and you’re forced to buy stuff second-hand. You’re my friend, Tom, use my money.” Harry looked so earnest as he turned to stare at Tom. Riddle’s eyes faltered for a second before pocketing the bag. “Thank you, Harry,” he said.

The ride back seemed quicker, and before they knew it, Harry and Tom were outside. Their stomachs were growling horribly by now. “How about,” Harry said slowly, “We find a place to eat first?”

“Alright,” Tom shrugged. They looked around, not really seeing any clear diner or restaurant. The closest they could find was a teashop and, of course, the Leaky Cauldron. They did not really want to go back in there again: Harry was afraid of getting Tom angry again when the adults ambush them to shake Harry’s hand. “Let’s try down here,” Tom said, and he pointed down a set of stairs that led to another cobbled street. Next to the stairs was a worn-out sign that said Knockturn Alley.

The two descended down the stairs and looked around. The shops weren’t nearly as vibrant as the other shops. They seemed seedier, dusty. Harry pointed to a nearby small restaurant and they walked in. It was filled with men and women wearing black robes, some hunched over, others talking in whispers. The shop could use a cleaning, but the boys didn’t care. They were hungry.

“You two shouldn’t be here,” a man behind the counter said. He was rather fat and stout. “Hogwarts kids shouldn’t play around in Knockturn Alley.”

“We’re hungry, we have money, give us food,” Tom sneered, pulling out his bag of money and putting ten gold coins on the counter. He looked behind the man and noticed a snake in a tank. He tapped Harry’s shoulder and pointed at it.

The man noticed them pointing at the snake and snarled. “What? Littles boys scared of a snake?” And he chuckled as he turned to the snake tank, opened it, and pulled the snake out. He turned to Harry and Tom and thrusts the angry, hissing snake in their faces. Tom remained stoic while Harry only jumped a little. Tom looked at the snake. “Shut up,” he said, and the snake went quiet at once.

Harry didn’t know why, but the man stared at Tom weirdly. Couldn’t he talk to snakes too? “Go back,” Tom said, and the snake, despite the owner’s protest, slithered to the floor and back into its cage. The man stared at the two boys, and quickly pointed to an empty table. Five minutes later, Harry and Tom were eating a plate of eggs and toast. Harry grimaced and looked up at Tom. “How’s yours?” he asked.

“Disgusting,” Tom said.

“Same,” Harry nodded. They looked at their half- finished plates. “I can wait to eat,” he said.

“Same, let’s go shopping,” Tom said, and the two walked out of the shop, turned back towards Diagon Alley, and returned to it. They decided to get their robes first, and Harry looked around. For some reason, now that they have “eaten” Harry just now noticed all of the restaurants and cafes Diagon Alley held. They found a shop called Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. Tom held the door for Harry and the two walked in.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed in all mauve. “Hogwarts, dears?” she said, when Harry and Tom started to speak. “Got the lot here—another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.”

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Harry gestured for Tom to go first, but Tom simply forced Harry onto the stool next to the boy and Madam Malkin slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

“Hello,” the boy said. “Hogwarts, too?”

“Yes,” Tom said.

“My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at wands,” the boy said. He had a bored, drawling voice that reminded Harry of Tom somewhat. “Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.”

Harry and Tom shared a look.

“Have you got your own brooms?” the boy went on.

“Yes,” Tom said. “We use them for sweeping and spanking naughty children.” Harry snickered as the boy looked at them.

“What are you, Muggleborns?” the boy sneered.

“He isn’t, don’t know about me,” Tom said. “I only know how I got my full name. Pretty difficult being orphans and all.”

“You do?” Harry asked, turning to Tom. “You never told me that!”

“Never asked, Harry,” Tom shrugged.

“And just _who_ are you two?” the boy demanded. Harry glanced at Tom, mouthing ‘Should I tell him?’ Tom just nodded.

“He’s Tom Riddle and I’m Harry Potter,” Harry said.

The boy, the woman pinning him, and Madam Malkin all stopped. “Harry Potter?” the boy repeated.

Harry nodded. The boy’s hand outstretched quickly, shocking Harry a little. “I’m Draco Malfoy,” the boy said, his mood changing completely. “You’ll find that there are many people at Hogwarts who you shouldn’t befriend. But I’ll help you out in that regard.” His eyes flickered towards Tom for a moment before looking back at Harry.

Harry just stared at the hand. “Think I’ll be able to do that by myself, thanks, and if not, I have Tom,” he said coolly.

Draco Malfoy scowled angrily. “You’re going to regret that, Potter,” he said. Harry shrugged, and smiled at Malfoy. “If you try to get me,” he said sweetly, “Tom and I will stop you.”

Tom nodded in approval, and Harry could practically hear Tom calling him a Good Boy in his mind. The boy left, scowling at the two of them and Tom stepped up on the now empty stool. “So,” Harry said, “You know your parents’ names?”

Tom shook his head, “All I know is what Matron told me,” he said, remembering Matron Cole in the thirties. “My full name is Tom Marvolo Riddle,” Tom said. “Tom Riddle is from my father… Marvolo, Marvolo is from my mother’s father.”

Harry frowned. Tom never talked about his parents before, and Harry never had the courage to ask. Tom looked out at the wall. He had a sort of far-out gaze in his eyes. “I bet…my father had to be a wizard,” he said. “My mother couldn’t be… she could have saved herself from dying.”

Harry said nothing. He was quiet for the rest of the fitting. When they were done, Harry immediately hugged Tom as the older boy paid for their robes. Harry dragged Tom to a place he knew the boy would like: a book store called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silks; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all.

Harry smiled when he saw Tom’s expression lighten somewhat at the sight of all the books, and went to get their required books as he allowed Tom to wander around. He just wanted his friend to be happy. When Harry was done getting their spellbooks, he walked back to Tom, who had a small pile of books under his arm. “Can we afford all of this?” Tom asked, looking at the books.

“Don’t worry about it Tom… I’ll pay for this,” Harry smiled. He looked around to make sure nobody was looking and stole a kiss on Tom’s cheek. “I heard that kisses also make people feel better,” he said.

Tom chuckled and shook his head. “What did I do to get such a good boy like you?”

Harry just smiled and the two went to the counter. It was a bit expensive, Harry supposed, everything costing thirty gold galleons, but Harry still had much more afterwards. Afterwards they went to get their cauldrons, two sets of scales, and a collapsible brass telescope. They visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. The two asked for two basic potion ingredients kits and were all too happy to get back into the fresh air.

“All that’s left are our wands,” Harry said.

“And a pet… if you want one,” Tom said.

“I don’t think Matron would allow one,” Harry said slowly, “but I think we can sneak one in.” They shared a grin and ran into Eeylops Owl Emporium and twenty minutes later, they left with Harry carrying a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. At last they were heading towards Ollivanders, whom many adults told were the best and only place to get wands in London. The shop was small and dusty, walls stacked high to the ceiling with narrow boxes. “Hello?” they called out.

“I wondered when I’d be seeing you, Mr. Potter,” a voice said, and an old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop. “It seems only yesterday that your mother and father were here buying their first wands.” Mr. Ollivander had come so close to Harry that they were almost nose to nose. “And that’s where…”

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead with a long, white finger. “I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,” he said softly. “Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands …well, if I’d knew what that wand was going out into the world to do…”

He shook his head and then spotted Tom. “Ahh, another one! Yes, yes, I will be with you soon enough! I hope you don’t mind I take care of Mr. Potter first, please, have a seat,” and he pointed to a spindly chair.

“Of course not,” Tom said as he sat down. Mr. Ollivander turned back to Harry. Tom watched as Mr. Ollivander measured his arm and body as he went on a lecture about how no two wands were exactly alike, and how, in the end, the wand chooses the wizard. Then Harry began trying wands. Tom thought that Harry would take a wand and try to cast a spell, but every time Mr. Ollivander gave Harry a wand to try, he would snatch it right out of Harry’s hand before the boy even finished a wave.

The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

“Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere—I wonder, now—yes, why not—unusual combination—holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches and supple.”

Harry took the wand. He raised it above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, dancing spots of light on to the wall. Tom clapped as Mr. Ollivander said, “Oh, bravo! Bravo! Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious…”

He put Harry’s wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, “Curious… curious…”

“I’m sorry… but what’s curious?”

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare. “I remember every wand I have ever sold Mr. Potter. Every single one. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather resides in your wand gave one other feather—just one other. It is curious for you to have this wand, when it’s brother… why it’s brother gave you that scar.”

“And who owned that wand?”

“We do not speak his name,” Mr. Ollivander whispered. “I think we must expect great things from you… after all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things—terrible, yes… but great.”

Harry shivered. He wasn’t sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand and sat down as it was Tom’s turn.

Mr. Ollivander was more business-like as he measured Tom, and soon it was time for Tom to try out the wands. Like with Harry, Mr. Ollivander snatched wand after wand out of Tom’s hand as he tried them, the pile of used wands mounting higher and higher along with both Mr. Ollivander’s happiness and, much to Harry’s worriment, Tom’s frustration. The mountain of wands easily surpassed Harry’s, pile: yew wands, elm wands, wands made of holly, wands made of ash, of cherry, of blackthorn; wands with Unicorn hair and wands with dragon heartstrings, wands with thestrals hairs, thunderbird tail feathers, and phoenix feathers all joined together in this mountain of failed wands. Mr. Ollivander resorted to going towards the back of the shop to pull out dusty wands made seemingly centuries ago, but still they did not work.

“Harry, what did you feel when you held your wand?” Tom gritted out, every syllable drenched with annoyance.

“A warm feeling,” Harry said. “Are you feeling anything Tom?”

“Besides splinters? No.”

Minutes passed, and before Harry knew it the two were in the store for half an hour trying out wands. Mr. Ollivander’s happiness turned into general confusion. “Trickiest customer I’ve met yet,” he said more to himself. “None of these wands seem to be yours… though I loathe to say it, perhaps we’ll try the wand that might be closest to your true wand, which appears to not be in my store. …What is your name again, boy?”

“Tom Riddle,” Tom gritted out.

“Riddle… Riddle… Tom, you say, you certain?”

“Yes,” Tom said. “My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

Mr. Ollivander stared at Tom for a long moment. Harry thought that he was dying right in front of them, his skin seemingly transitioning into a ghostly pale blue. The glassy eyes moved between Tom and Harry. “No, no, and definitely not. Your wand is not here. Sorry, but I think it would be nice if you would kindly leave now—”

“I need a wand for Hogwarts,” Tom said shortly. Harry flinched slightly, Tom’s temper had finally snapped. “You said so yourself, if none of these wands will choose me, pick the wand closest to what I need and I will take it.”

Mr. Ollivander looked paralyzed. For some odd reason he looked completely terrified of Tom right now. Harry couldn’t understand it. Tom took a step forward and Mr. Ollivander, for being quite an old man, snapped into action and soon Tom was paying for a thirteen inch wand made of Blackthorn wood with a dragon heart-string in it.

Tom gave the wand a sharp wave, and a destructive burst of green fire shot from his wand before disappearing a second later. Tom looked satisfied with the results and turned to Mr. Ollivander. “Thank you,” he said politely. “Harry, come on, we’re leaving now.”

Harry only nodded. He was only happy to leave the shop. Tom grabbed his hand a bit too tightly as the two left. Harry sighed and looked at Tom, he was going to have a fight calming him down when they get back to the orphanage.

Harry was surprised at how easy it was for the two to get their owl into their room. He placed her cage on top of his dresser and placed some treats inside the cage. He turned to Tom, who was staring at his wand. “Tom—”

“Must be nice having it so bloody easy,” Tom said bitterly. “You’re famous, after all. You have a wand that’s supposed to be yours—”

“Tom, please calm down,” Harry said.

“Must be that other Tom who has my wand, selfish prick,” Tom muttered to himself. Harry stopped whatever he was going to say and stared, confused, at Tom. Every now and again he would mutter something about “another Tom.” He always said it in a way that it was obvious that Tom didn’t want Harry to hear about it, but sometimes he does. He never questioned it, figuring it was a way for Tom to deal with something, but now… now Harry couldn’t help but ask, “What do you mean the other Tom?”

Tom looked up, shocked. “What?”

“What do you mean by ‘that other Tom?’” Harry went on again. “You’re always talking about another Tom.”

“No I don’t,” Tom said.

Harry frowned. “Tell me,” he demanded.

“Why should I? This doesn’t concern you,” Tom said rudely.

Harry glared at him. “Tom, tell me… or else I’ll tell Matron everything.”

“You won’t!” Tom said. He stood quickly, but Harry stood his ground. The two stared at each other, but Tom broke it. “Fine… you won’t believe me anyway,” he said.

Harry crossed his arms and waited. Tom thought for a moment, then said briskly, “When I was five years old, England was hit by a freak hurricane. Somehow, I don’t know through my magic or something, I was split into two Toms. That was in Nineteen-Thirty-Two. Then, the other Tom stayed there at Mrs. Cole’s Orphanage while I end up here with you. That other Tom, the Tom in the thirties, obviously gotten his Hogwarts Letter before me and now has my wand and I am left with this stupid thing.” He waved the blackthorn wand for emphasis.

Harry stared at Tom. There was no way what he said was true, but he never knew Tom to make up stories. And he never lied to Harry before, so why would he start now? “This… is this all true?”

“Yes.”

“So… the other Tom… he has your real wand?” Harry asked.

“Yes, he does,” Tom said. “Though that doesn’t do us any good, does it?”

“I guess so,” Harry sighed. “But… you’re really from—”

“Yes. I am,” Tom said through snarled teeth. “If you ask me again—”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I just… it’s a bit hard to wrap my mind around.”

Tom nodded. “I know. However, that is the truth, but it doesn’t matter now.”

“Yes it does!” Harry said.

“How?”

“This other Tom guys has your wand so—”

“This wand is good enough, Harry,” Tom said. His voice sounded controlling, and Harry felt something spark in the back of his head. “Stop worrying about it. The wand works well, I’m just annoyed.”

“Okay,” Harry found himself saying. He thought for a moment, then surprised Tom as he pushed the older boy to the bed. Harry got behind Tom, spreading his legs so he can sit behind the boy and, not knowing what he’s exactly doing, grabbed Tom’s shoulders and began to squeeze and move his hands around. “You’re really tight,” Harry said.

Tom just grunted.

“Look,” Harry continued. “In a month, we’re heading to Hogwarts, hopefully getting into the same dorm, so, till then, let’s just… relax with each other?”

Tom nodded, and Harry smiled softly as he squeezed what felt like a solid knot. He kept squeezing and moving his hands up and down Tom’s shoulders for a while, bringing out strange noises from Tom that he never heard before.

Tom felt completely relaxed until Harry’s touch. He’s raised his boy so good… wondering at how good of a job Tom did, he gave an order that he read about a lot in his books. “Kiss me.”

And Harry obeyed.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

The month went by surprisingly fast for Harry and Tom. They kept to their room with their new owl for company. Harry had decided to call her Hedwig, a name he had found in A History of Magic. Their school books were very interesting. They laid on Tom’s bed, reading late into the night, Hedwig swooping in and out of the open window as she pleased. It was lucky that the Matron doesn’t come in to check their room was clean anymore, because Hedwig kept bringing back dead mice.

On the first of September, Harry and Tom woke up early and went to find the Matron. “Um…” Harry said, “Today’s the day we’re leaving.”

“Oh right, your special school… well, goodbye,” the Matron said, not looking up at them.

“We need to get to Kings’ Cross Station,” Harry said again.

“Then you better get going,” the Matron said. Harry frowned and looked at Tom. Thank god they woke up so early. Giving her a dirty look, Tom and Harry returned to their room and gathered their trunks.

“Guess we’ll call a cab then,” Harry said, and Tom nodded. Making sure that Hedwig was secure on his trunk, the two made the difficult climb to bring both trunks down to the first floor and outside. It was thankfully a cloudless day, so they did not have to worry about any rain. It was half past six when they’ve gotten all their luggage down, and it was an hour later that Tom was about to get a cab for the two. The driver asked no questions as he loaded both huge heavy trunks into his car, though he was a little suspicious of the caged owl. They reached Kings’ Cross at half past ten. Tom and Harry dumped their trunks onto a cart and wheeled it into the station.

They stopped at facing the platforms and looked around. There was platform nine, and platform ten, but no platform nine-and-three-quarters. “She forgot how to tell us how to get onto the platform,” Tom said irritably. “Check the ticket, see if there aren’t instructions or anything.”

Harry pulled out his ticket and turned it over. “All it says is ‘Platform Nine-and-three-quarters,’” he told Tom.

The older boy frowned. “I don’t think we can ask any of these… what are they called again?”

“People?”

“No, non-magic people,” Tom said.

“Oh, muggles,” Harry said. He frowned and looked around. He noticed a huge clock and tried very hard not to panic. “Tom… the time,” he whined.

Tom looked to see that it somehow became ten to eleven. At that moment, miraculously, a group of people passed just behind them and Harry caught a few words of what they were saying.

“—do this every year, packed with Muggles of course—”

Harry grabbed Tom’s hand and swung them both around. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry and Tom’s in front of them—and they had an owl!

“Come on, Platform Nine-and Three-Quarters this way.”

Harry pushed their cart after them. They stopped and so did he and Tom, just near enough to hear what they were saying. “All right Percy, you first,” the woman said.

What looked like the oldest red-head marched towards platform nine and ten. Harry watched, careful not to blink in case he missed it—but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time they cleared away, the boy was gone.

“Fred, you next,” the plump woman said.

“He’s not Fred, I am,” the boy said.

“Honestly woman, and you call yourself our mother?”

“Sorry, George, dear.”

“Only joking, I am Fred,” the boy said, and he went off. His twin ran after him, and the next second they were both gone! How did they do that?

Harry looked at Tom then back at the plump woman. “Excuse me,” he said.

“Hello, dear,” she said. “First time at Hogwarts? Ron’s new, too.”

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose. Harry thought he looked nice. Not as nice as Tom, but still nice.

“Yes,” Tom said. “Though we don’t know how to…well—”

“How to get onto the platform?” she said kindly, and the two boys nodded.

“Not to worry,” she said. “All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous. Go on, go now before Ron.”

“Er—alright,” Harry said. He looked at Tom for a moment. “I’ll—”

Tom shoved Harry away from their trolley and began pushing it towards the barrier, walking briskly. “Okay, you push,” Harry muttered. He followed Tom quickly. They were going to smash right into the barrier—Tom broke out into a run and Harry hurried to keep up—the barrier was coming nearer and nearer—they couldn’t stop now—the cart was out of control—they were going to crash—a foot away—Harry closed his eyes, ready for the crash—

It didn’t come… they kept on running… Harry opened his eyes. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o’clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. They’ve done it!

He smiled at Tom, who continued to stare at the train. “Come on!” Harry said excitedly. “Let’s go find a compartment.”

Tom nodded and moved to the side so that they could push their trolley together. The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. The two pushed their cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. They passed a round-faced boy who was saying, “Gran, I’ve lost my toad again.”

“Oh, Neville,” he heard the old woman sigh.

“What a stupid pet,” Tom couldn’t help but sneer. “Honestly why would you bring a toad? They’re so slimy and disgusting.”

“Some snakes are slimy,” Harry pipped.

“True, Harry, but at least we can talk to them,” Tom said. “Can’t have a conversation with a toad, now can you?”

“Well… no I guess not,” Harry said. “But you’re right, toads are a bit stupid. Owls are better.” He smiled at their owl. They found an empty compartment near the end of the train. Harry put Hedwig inside first, and the twos started to shove and heave their trunks toward the train door. They tried to lift it up the stairs but could barely raise it and twice they fell on Harry’s foot painfully.

“Need help?” It was one of the red-headed twins they’d follow through the barrier.

“Yes please,” Harry panted.

“Oy, Fred! C’mere and help!”

With the twins’ help, Harry’s and Tom’s trunks were at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment. “Thank you,” Tom and Harry said, both pushing their sweaty hair out of their eyes.

“What’s that?” one of the twins said suddenly, pointing at Harry’s scar.

Tom frowned as the other one said, “Blimley! Are you—?”

“Harry Potter?” Harry helped. “Yes. I am.”

“Thank you for helping us,” Tom said again, this time forcibly standing between Harry and the twins. He turned and fixed Harry’s hair, hiding his scar. “But we really need to go on the train. Goodbye.”

He took Harry’s hand, and the two waved at the twins, who hopped off the train with their mother calling for them. Tom brought Harry to a seat and sat them both down. “How much longer are we going to have to deal with this?” he groaned.

“They’ll get used to it, I’m sure,” Harry shrugged. “Give it a month…I hope.”

Tom rolled his eyes and they looked out the window as the train started pulling out the station. Houses flashed past the window. Harry felt a great leap of excitement. Wherever they were going to go, it would be a whole lot better than where they were coming from.

The door to the compartment slid open and the youngest red-headed boy came in.

“Anyone sitting there?” he asked, pointing to the empty seat opposite of Tom and Harry, “everywhere else is full.”

“Go ahead,” Tom said.

“I’m Ron, Ron Weasley,” the boy said sitting down.

“Tom Riddle.”

“Harry Potter.”

“You’re Harry Potter?” Ron gasped, “Does that mean you have the—the… _the scar?_ ”

Tom rolled his eyes as Harry nodded and moved his bangs out of the way to show Ron the lightning bolt scar. “Wicked… do you remember anything from that night?”

“No,” Harry said. “Just a lot of green light.”

“Wow,” Ron said. He stared at Harry for a few moment, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.

“Are your whole family wizards?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” Ron said. “I think Mum’s got a second cousin who’s an accountant, but we never talk about him.”

The Weasleys were clearly a Wizarding Family. Tom stared at Ron for a bit until the boy asked, “Is it true you lived with Muggles, Harry?”

Tom answered. “Yes, we live in an orphanage.”

“Oh… sorry…” Ron muttered.

“Don’t. They’re horrible,” Tom said. “Well the ones we encounter. Our Matron, she runs the orphanage, wouldn’t even give us a lift to the station, we had to take a cab.”

“Really?” Ron gasped. “That’s rough—but they’re not all bad right?”

“The barber’s good,” Harry shrugged. “So you have three brothers?”

“Five,” Ron said rather gloomily. “I’m the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I’ve got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left—Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy’s a prefect, Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they’re really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it’s no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I’ve got Bill’s old robes, Charlie’s old wand, and Percy’s old rat.”

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep.

“His name’s Scabbers and he’s useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn’t aff—I mean, I got Scabbers instead.” Ron’s ears went pink. He seemed to think he’d said too much, because he went back to staring out the window only to look back to them.

“What an ugly rat,” Tom commented. “May I?” He held out his hand.

“Y-Yeah…” Ron said. He handed the rat to Tom as Harry didn’t think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl. After all, he’d never had any money in his life that really was his until a month ago, and he told Ron so, all about having to wear whatever second-hand clothes the Matron found while they had to “borrow” money from the teenagers for a month in order to buy a nice shirt, and never getting proper birthday presents.

This seemed to cheer Ron up.

Tom continued to examine the rat. “Truly disgusting,” he muttered to himself.

“Well, if you worried about being the worst in the class, don’t’ worry,” Ron said. “There’s loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough.”

“That’s… comforting,” Tom said.

Ron looked at him, confused. Harry sighed and shook his head. Leaning towards his friend, he whispered, “Tom, I’m sure you’re not a muggleborn—”

“That’s not the problem,” Tom said shortly.

“Still, we don’t have to worry about being behind,” Harry smiled. He leaned back and said a little louder, “I’m sure you’ll be able to surpass everyone in no time Tom.” Turning to Ron, he explained, “Tom was always the smartest kid in class. Though he does spend most of the time in our dorm reading.”

Tom shot him a glare. Glancing down at Scabbers, forgetting that he was holding him, he gave it back to Ron. While they have been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, “Anything from the trolley, dears?”

Harry leapt to his feet and quickly brought as much food and sweats he could hold while Tom shook his head slowly. “What? We forgot breakfast,” Harry said, plopping down next to him and handing Tom a pastry. Ron stared at the pile of sweets. “Hungry are you?”

“Starving,” Harry said, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pastry. Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, “She always forgets I don’t like corned beef.”

“Swap you for one of these,” Harry said, holding up a pastry. “Go on—”

“You don’t want this, it’s all dry,” Ron said. “She hasn’t got much time,” he added quickly, “you know, with five of us.”

“ Just take the fu—damn pastry, Weasley,” Tom said a bit rudely. After he did, Tom decided to ask, “What even is this stuff?” Tom asked, holding out a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

“Those mean every flavor,” Ron said. “Once I got sprouts! Though there’s regular flavor like peppermint, chocolate, or strawberry.”

Tom considered the sweet for a moment, and took a bean out, eating it. “Hm… carrot,” he shrugged.

Harry held up a pack of Chocolate Frogs and asked, “What are these? They’re not really frogs, are they?”

“No,” Ron said. “But see what the card is, I’m missing Agrippa.”

“Huh?”

“I think they’re the wizarding kind of baseball cards,” Tom commented, eating another bean. Harry hummed and unwrapped the Chocolate Frog, picking up the card. It showed a man’s face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

Tom leaned next to Harry and read over his shoulder.

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE  
Currently Headmaster of Hogwarts

            Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.

“I heard about him,” Tom said, pointing to the name Nicolas Flamel.

“You have?” both Ron and Harry gasped.

“Of course, I’ve read about him in one of my books… though it was fiction,” Tom frowned. “Ehh, can’t remember…” He shrugged and went back to his seat.

Harry turned the card back over and sat, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore’s face had disappeared.

“He’s gone!”

“Well, you can’t expect him to hang around all day, can you?” Ron said. He was eyeing the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.

“Help yourself,” Harry said. Tom watched as the two boys started unwrapping Chocolate Frogs. Ron was more interested in the chocolate than the Famous Witch or Wizard cards, but Harry couldn’t keep his eyes off of them. He had a nice little collection when the door slid open again. “Oh, Malfoy… how pleasant,” Tom said, though from the tone of his voice, he wasn’t happy to see the blonde boy standing in the open doorway.

He was not alone. Behind him were two thickset boys who looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale Malfoy, they looked like bodyguards. “Let’s try this again,” Malfoy said. “This is Crabbe, and Goyle,” he said carelessly, noticing where Tom and Harry were looking. “And I’m Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

“Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.”

He turned back to Harry. “I’ll tell you again, Potter. You’ll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.”

“And I will tell you again that I don’t need your help,” Harry said coolly. “Offer as many hands as you want, but nothing will change.”

Draco Malfoy didn’t go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

“I’d be—”

“I believe now would be a very good time for you to leave, Malfoy,” Tom interrupted. “I believe there will be much more time for idle and empty threats later. But until then, please cease polluting our compartment with the odious odor your friends are making.” His eyes shifted towards Crabbe and Goyle before looking back at Malfoy.

Giving a horrible sneer, Malfoy left, Crabbe and Goyle following him.

Ron looked between Tom and Harry. “You’ve met Malfoy before?”

Harry explained their meeting in Diagon Alley.

“I’ve heard of his family,” Ron said darkly. “They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they’d been bewitched. My dad doesn’t believe it. He says Malfoy’s father didn’t need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side… family full of Slytherins, that one.”

“Slytherins?” Tom asked.

“The House they were all in,” Ron said. He was surprised by both Tom’s and Harry’s blank looks. “You don’t know about the Houses?” he said.

“Inform us.”

“Well… there’s four of them see? We get sorted into them. My family’s been in Gryffindor for as long as I remember while the Malfoys were all in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was also from Slytherin too. There isn’t a witch or wizard who goes into that House and not go to the Dark Side,” Ron said.

“Interesting… so Malfoy will be in Slytherin?” Tom asked. A cold, calculating smirk entered his face. Harry stared at him for a moment. “Tom, what are you thinking?” he asked.

“I believe, Harry, that we have found our House,” Tom smirked.

“You’re nuts! Didn’t you hear me?” Ron said. “Only Dark Wizards go in there!”

“Well… I am quite sorry to tell you this Ron, but I have just set my mind to Slytherin,” Tom said. He looked outside and saw that they were now deep in a forest, and it was already dark. “Nevertheless, Harry, we need to change into our robes,” he said. “Come on…” And without even glancing at Ron, the two stood up, took out their robes, and Tom made sure that Harry’s were clean and wrinkle-free before slipping it onto the boy and dressing himself.

Smirking to himself, Harry suddenly had an idea. He leaned towards Tom and whispered, “Draco Malfoy… he’s such a prat.”

“He is,” Tom hummed.

“Makes me think… he clearly didn’t learn manners, which seems a down right shame.”

“Shame?”

“Just an awful waste,” Harry sigh. “I mean, a boy like that has, what’s that word you like to use talking about me?”

“Cuteness?”

“No, the p word… potential,” Harry purred. “If only he had a couple people show him how to behave and be nice…” He looked up at Tom expectantly.

Tom gave a sly smile as his face lit up. “Oh Harry… Harry, Harry, Harry… you sly little snake. Good job! Good boy!” Tom exclaimed and hugged Harry tightly. Ron looked at the two a little confused. Tom turned to him and smirked. “Ronald Weasley! I will say this now and expect no arguments. I will become a Slytherin, but so will Harry. We are both going to teach Malfoy some very important lessons involving manners.”

“Manners?” Ron said, looking more confused than ever.

Harry smiled and stepped away from Tom. “What he means… basically… is that Tom and I are going to turn Draco into a Good Boy.”


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

It would be impossible to try and describe the shock that Dumbledore felt as the first years walked into the Great Hall and, sorted into the small group an almost phantom-like sight that shouldn’t exist. A phantom that should be at a near-death state, hiding somewhere in Albania. Yet there, standing beside Harry Potter, whom Dumbledore still assumed was living with his relatives, was the eleven-year-old form of Tom Riddle. How could it be? Was the eleven-year-old in front of him a specter? Was he just a figment of Dumbledore’s stressed imagination after seeing his name in the book? It had to be, yet there the boy was interacting with Harry Potter… the same face Dumbledore saw all those years ago but… something was different.

The face was missing something, something that Tom Riddle had more than fifty years ago… or was it the other way around? Potter whispered something to Tom Riddle, and Riddle smiled. Dumbledore was shocked. Tom Riddle was giving Harry Potter a genuine smile. There was no trickery or falseness that the Dark Lord was known for. No plans or manipulation. It was just a smile.

Dumbledore watched the two closely as the Sorting began. The hat has sung its song, and Professor McGonagall began calling out the First Years’ names. Riddle was between Harry and a tall redheaded child that Dumbledore recognized immediately as a Weasley. They were all whispering to each other, and, strangely, relief flooded Dumbledore as a thought crossed his mind. He has failed Tom Riddle fifty years ago, but now it seems he has a second attempt. Curious, he leaned back and watched the rest of the Sorting. Maybe, hopefully, with the help of both Harry and the youngest Weasley, this Tom Riddle, however he came to be here, might turn out different, better, than the one Dumbledore had failed.

 

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, “SLYTHERIN!”

Tom smirked and chuckled to himself,” At least the boy was correct about one thing,” he whispered to Harry.

“Now all we have to do is get into there,” Harry whispered back. “How do you think it decides? There has to be more than just wearing it.”

Tom shrugged, not knowing the answer. There weren’t many people left now. Moon, Nott, Parkinson, a pair of twin girls Patil and Patil, then, Perks, Sally-Anne, and then, at last—”

“Potter-Harry!”

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

“Potter, did she say?”

“The Harry Potter?”

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

“Hmmm,” a small voice said in his ear. “Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage I see, and not a bad mind either. There’s talent, yes, and a thirst to prove yourself… but where to put you?”

_Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin,_ Harry thought as he gripped the edges of the stool.

“Slytherin eh? Are you sure? You could be great you know, it’s all here in your mind, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness. Very well… SLYTHERIN!”

Harry couldn’t help but smirk. He ignored the looks of shock from all four tables as he took off the hat and made his way towards the Slytherin table. He made sure to sit directly next to Draco Malfoy, shooting Crabbe and Goyle a strong look when the three of the looked as if they were going to protest. “Hello Draco,” Harry purred. He turned to watch the rest of the sorting. Tom was next and, as expected, he was sorted into Slytherin as soon as the hat touched the ends of his hair.

Harry’s smile widened and clapped with the rest of the Slytherin tables as Tom came and sat on the other side of Malfoy. “Hello Malfoy,” he said. “Would you fancy this, the three of us at the same House.” Harry giggled and smiled at the two boys.

“Really who could imagine?” he asked.

“What is going on?” Malfoy demanded. Harry looked at Tom and the older boy nodded. Harry moved a little closer to Malfoy, having no sense of personal space, and said, “Well, Draco… Tom and I had a change of heart. You were right that people will need help in order to make friends with the right type of people. And, quite recently, I was talking with the wrong sort.”

Malfoy gotten a smug kind of look on his face. “Finally came around, Potter?” he asked.

“Yes,” Harry smiled. “Didn’t we Tom?”

“Yes we did, little snake,” Tom said. The sorting was now over, and they were joined with by a black boy named Blaise Zabini, who sat across of Harry. Harry have him a small smile and wave as Tom said, “That said… Draco Malfoy you will never talk to Crabbe and Goyle ever again.”

Draco looked completely insulted. “Excuse me!”

“You heard him,” Harry smiled. “Tom told you that you can’t talk to Crabbe or Goyle anymore. And what Tom says go, isn’t that right?” he asked, looking at Tom, who nodded. Harry smiled and looked at Zabini, “Tom and I live together, and he taught me many things,” he said. “One of the most important things is listening to him.”

“Really?” Zabini asked. “Does that mean I have to listen to him too to befriend you?”

“No, only Draco has to,” Harry smiled.

Malfoy glared at both Harry and Tom. “As if! I will not listen to a filthy mudblood. Who do you think you are, trying to order me around.”

Tom’s face darkened. Harry bit his lower lip. “I will order you around, Malfoy,” Tom sneered his name, “because Harry was kind enough to think we should give you a second chance. I did not care of giving you this chance, Malfoy, but Harry convinced me to. We want to be your friends Draco, we really do, but we also want to help you improve. Those two trolls will not help you improve, they will only pull you down.”

“So Draco…” Harry said gently. “Can we be friends? I can promise you that Tom and I are way better than Crabbe and Goyle—we can actually have a conversation! And with Tom… you won’t need to hide yourself behind people, he’ll make sure you can stand up on your own.”

“I can—”

“Can you Draco?” Harry asked. “Don’t tell me now but… just think to yourself: Why are you friends with Crabbe and Goyle? What do they do for you?” He turned to look at Blaise, he wanted to know more about his new housemate, only to gasp as in front of him the once empty golden plates and goblets were now filled with food! He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roasted potatoes, fries, meatloaf, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy ketchup, pastas, and, for some odd reason, peppermint humbugs.

Harry stuffed his plate with as much food as he could and began to eat. It was all delicious. “So Harry, you and Tom live together or something?” Blaise Zabini asked.

“Yeah, lived in an orphanage,” Harry said. “Tom lived there his whole life while I got there when I was seven.”

“And he’s a mudblood,” Zabini more stated than asked.

Harry looked at Tom, he was too busy talking in hushed tones to Draco Malfoy. He leaned forward and asked Blaise softly, “What’s a mudblood?”

“One of those dirty-blooded witches or wizards who are from muggles,” Blaise answered.

Harry frowned. “Tom is not that! He has a wizard parent, we’re sure of it!”

“Really?” Zabini hummed.

“He doesn’t know his parents, so yes,” Harry said shortly. “A random muggle who doesn’t know his parents are wouldn’t be a wizard.”

“If you say so Harry,” Zabini shrugged. “So anyway, what’s the deal between you and that Riddle kid?”

“What do you mean?”

“Seems weird, you know, you taking orders from a kid like him,” Blaise said.

“Who says I’m just taking orders from him?” Harry asked. He took another bite of food and asked, “So what about you Zabini? You the type of kid who takes or gives orders?”

“I’m the one who gives orders, Harry,” Blaise said confidently. Harry just hummed, unconvinced. He looked over at the Gryffindor Table to see Ron sitting with his brothers and other first years. He wondered how Ron felt. He knew that Tom planned for himself to be sorted into Slytherin, but Harry guessed that Ron, along with the rest of the school, must have been surprised by Harry’s sorting. After all, according to Ron all the dark witches and wizards go into Slytherin. Does that automatically make Harry a Dark Wizard? He didn’t know. He didn’t feel darker… if being a Dark Wizard is supposed to feel anything special.

Harry looked up at the High Table. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell’s turban straight into Harry’s eyes—and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry’s forehead.

“Ouch!” Harry clapped a hand to his head.

“What happened?” Blaise Zabini asked.

“Nothing.”

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher’s look—a feeling that he didn’t like Harry at all.

“Who’s that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?” he asked Zabini.

“That’s Professor Snape, he teaches Potions,” Zabini said. “He’s also our Head of House.”

Harry frowned at that. He didn’t want to be anywhere near the man. At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

“Ahem—just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give to you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”

Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins. “I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house team should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

Harry looked around, hoping that Dumbledore was kidding. Only a few first years laughed. “He’s not serious is he?” Harry asked.

Blaise and Malfoy shrugged while Tom frowned.

“And now, our beds and calling us all. Tomorrow will be a day full of learning for all of us. Pip pip!”

The first years followed an older Slytherin out into the entrance hall and towards a set of marble staircases. Instead of climbing up, like Harry thought they were going to do, the Slytherins all went down a wide set of stone steps towards what appeared to be the school’s dungeons. “We’re going to sleep here?” Tom sneered, looking around. Harry sighed and leaned closed to Tom.

_“Relax,”_ He whispered. Tom just rolled his eyes as they went down the corridor and stopped in front of a wall with what looked like a skull thrust into it. “Password?” the skull in the wall demanded.

“Wormwood,” the older Slytherin said.

The stone wall slid open slowly, revealing an archway even big enough for the wide Crabbe and Goyle. Inside everything seemed to be either a leathery black or a shade of green. There were black leather couches and armchairs surrounding a fireplace, what looked like skulls and strange potion ingredients hanging on the walls, and a large, wide window that viewed not into the outside, but the depths of a giant lake, which only gave everything a sort of green, eerie tint. Harry bit his lip and hoped that there was no windows in their dorms, or at least that their dormitory was above ground. He looked at Tom and sighed. Tom loves the dark, he knew that the Riddle would feel quite at home here. He moved closer and took Tom’s hand.

“Scared?” Tom hissed. Harry looked at him and shook his head. “Then what’s the matter? It’s cozy here.”

“Can’t see the sky,” Harry muttered. Tom snickered and shook his head. “Well, let’s see if our dorms are like this, then you can worry.”

They turned their attention to the older Slytherin. He pointed to a stone archway with two pairs of stairs, both seemingly leading downwards. “Boy’s on the left, girl’s on the right.”

Tom and Harry immediately went to the boy’s dormitory. There they found seven four-posters hung with deep green, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Tom looked around and made a noise, “This won’t do,” he said, looking around. “Look at this Harry,” he pointed to their trunks, which were on the opposite sides of the room. “Help me move some trunks.”

They went to Harry’s trunk and, with some difficulty, lifted it up and started to carry it over towards the bed next to Tom’s. The other Slytherin boys filtered in and stared at the two of them. “What the hell are you doing?” Draco Malfoy demanded.

“I need Harry next to me,” Tom grunted. “I refuse to sleep next to anyone else who isn’t Harry.” They dropped Harry’s trunk in front of the bed, and Tom muttered, “Who’s is this—Crabbe… no.” He looked at the two trolls. “You two,” he said. Harry felt a shiver go down his spine as Tom’s tone changed completely. “Lift up this trunk and move it as far away from me.”

The two stood motionless along with the other three Slytherins. They stared at Tom dimly. _“Do it!”_ the boy snarled, and, surprisingly, the five Slytherins jumped in surprise. Harry did not know why but Crabbe and Goyle seemed to spark into motion, moving the trunk quickly out of the way, as Blaise, Draco, and the third Slytherin whom Harry did not get a chance to speak to, Theodore Nott, all stared at Tom. Riddle ignored them and went to Harry’s trunk, pulling out Harry’s pajamas before going to pull out his own. The two changed, and looked at the other Slytherins, who still stared at Tom. “What are you looking at? It’s late,” Tom muttered.

Harry couldn’t help but giggle at the way the other Slytherins seemingly ran to get changed. He stepped up to Tom and quickly kissed him on the lips. He tried to move away, but Tom took a hold of his waist and back, pressing the smaller boy against him as he prolonged the kiss. “There,” he breathed when they separated, “now I’m sure we’ll do excellent tomorrow.”

Draco Malfoy, whose bed was next to Harry’s, stared at the two. “Wh—why…”

Harry gave him a sweet smile and said, “Kisses helps you concentrate on the next day, as well as calm you down if you’re stressful. Tom and I kiss each other every night. Who knows, maybe he’ll allow me to kiss you if you’re nice enough, you look like you need one.”

Draco stared at the boy. He was confused yet also jealous. How can a nobody from an orphanage openly kiss Potter? That is not fair!

“Yeah,” Tom said. He looked at Draco and smirked. “If Harry is okay with it, he can give you a kiss when you earn it. Though, I don’t think that’ll ever happen.” Chuckling to himself, Tom closed the curtains around his bed and quickly fell asleep.

Draco stared at Harry. “Not saying I want to,” he said apprehensively, “but what do I have to do in order to get you to kiss me, Po—Harry?”

Harry smiled at him and thought for a moment. “Well… you were really mean to me and Tom at that robes shop, and again on the train… if you want me to kiss you Draco, you’ll have to change.”

“What do you mean change?” Draco sneered.

“That, for one,” Harry said, pointing at Draco’s face. “You have no manners, just by that face of yours I can tell you think you’re better than everyone else. So Tom and I are going to have to change all of that. We’re going to break you down and build you back up into a better boy. Only then can you kiss me.” Harry smiled and sneaked a look at Tom’s bed. Seeing the boy was asleep, Harry stood up and moved to Draco’s bed. He motioned silently for Draco to follow, and he closed the curtains around him.

Harry laid down and turned to the Malfoy heir, who stared at Harry in confusion. The boy smiled and whispered, “Tom did so much for me. When we met, I was just so sad, I couldn’t pass ten minutes without crying. But he took me under his wing, and, well, I’m the result.” Harry smiled and extended his arms as if showing off his body. “He does give a weird request every now and then but… Tom is good for me. And he can be good for you! You just have to get past his err… harshness. He doesn’t like people that much after all. Which is no surprise considering his um… parents. But give him a change, and I swear you’ll end up a better person than you can think of.”

Harry moved forward towards Draco and gave a sly smirk when he saw the blonde blush. He placed his hands on Draco’s shoulders and whispered in Draco’s ear, “Besides… I heard that kissing boys is much better than kissing girls. We have a certain roughness that’ll drive you wild.” He leaned close to Draco and pressed his lips against Draco’s cheeks, the flesh burning red from the contact, and the blonde feeling very odd and strange emotions bubble up inside him. Harry moved away slowly and Draco tried to follow him, but Harry shook his head.

“No Draco… that was only a small teaser until you change,” Harry breathed. “Why? Do you want another kiss?”

In this state of weirdness, where everything felt both right and wrong at the same time, bodily functions that felt like they shouldn’t move in certain ways moved, blood flowing everywhere to his body while leaving everywhere at the same time, making his cheeks and head burn a furious red while his arms and legs tingled and the thing he uses to go to the bathroom felt awfully stiff. In this state that clouded his mind, Draco nodded frantically. “Yeah, yeah, I want another kiss,” he said.

Harry leaned forward slowly, Draco could feel his cheeks becoming more sensitive, as if physically preparing itself for Harry’s lips. A smile started to show on the confused boy’s lips as he stared at Harry’s pink full lips as they descended closer and closer to Draco’s face. They were so close, only a hair away, when Harry stopped. Draco could feel Harry’s breath on him, he could feel every syllable mockingly push against his cheek as Harry whispered, “Then you need to become a Good Boy Draco. You won’t get anymore kisses until then.”

Harry leaned back and smiled at Draco, who looked so frustrated, so angry, yet… willing. Harry knew that, if given time, Draco would learn his manners. “Tomorrow morning… before you even have a sip of juice or bite of food, I want you to come to Gryffindor Table with me,” Harry whispered. “There, you’re going to apologize to Ron while I talk with him and his brothers. Alright?”

Draco nodded. Harry smiled. “Well, good night Draco.”

“Goodnight Harry,” Draco said, everything still burning inside him. He hoped that Harry would kiss his cheek again but felt crushingly disappointed when Harry just left his bed, closing the curtains behind him. Feeling a mixture of frustration and anticipation, Draco tried to get comfortable in his bed before falling asleep, dreaming of two raven-haired boys.

Harry, meanwhile, closed the curtains in his bed without getting into it, and placed his glasses on his nightstand. He went to Tom’s bed and climbed in, making sure the curtain was closed behind him. “What are you planning?” Tom muttered without opening his eyes. He opened his arm automatically and wrapped it around his Harry.

“Nothing,” Harry hummed. “So, are you excited?”

“For what?”

“Tomorrow,” Harry said. “We’re going to learn magic!”

“Yeah, I am excited about that,” Tom yawned.

“Me too,” Harry smiled. “But I’m excited about something else as well.” He gave a sly smile. Tom opened one eye to see Harry’s sleepy, sly face.

“And what is that?”

“You’ll see,” Harry yawned. Tom sighed and shook his head. “Go to sleep, little snake.”

“Goodnight,” Harry whispered, and he kissed Tom’s cheek before falling asleep on his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder... who is the better manipulator? Harry? Or Tom? At the end of the day, who has who wrapped around his finger?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Draco did as he was commanded. The next morning, he and Harry went to the Gryffindor Table where Ron was sitting with his brothers. “Ron!” Harry said happily, smiling at his friend.

The Weasley turned around to see Harry coming up to him with Malfoy. “Hello Harry… what are you doing here?” Ron asked questionably. Harry just smiled and looked at Draco, “Remember our promise?” he said. Draco nodded. “Well… go on then, or you’re not eating.”

Draco shot Harry a lethal stare, but the boy just smiled innocently. “You want to eat, right? Look?” He pointed to the Slytherin table where the others were eating. Tom was sitting next to two empty seats who had plates full of food waiting. “Tom was kind enough to get us our breakfast Draco,” Harry continued. “But you can’t have a bite until…” He looked at Ron and smiled.

Gritting his teeth, Malfoy gave both Harry and Ron another glare before turning around and leaving. Harry sighed and shook his head. “I thought I had him last night,” he said.

“Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do Harry, but—”

“No. I will turn Draco into a Good Boy. You’ll see!” Harry said stubbornly. He looked up at the Slytherin Table and shook his head. Tom frowned, but nodded. “I don’t care if Draco needs to starve a bit, I won’t have him being mean to my friend!”

Ron frowned. “You don’t have to do all this for me,” he muttered, but Harry did not listen to him as he stomped back to Slytherin Table. “No food!” he yelled at Draco, and pulled his plate away from the blonde, placing it in front of Tom. “You are just such a jerk, you know?” he said angrily.

“Me? Me? I’m the jerk? I’m not the one, Potter, forcing you to apologize just to eat,” Draco snarled.

“It’s just two words! Two bloody words! ‘I’m Sorry’ how hard can that be?” Harry demanded.

“Shut up, both of you,” Tom said, looking extremely disappointed at both of them. “Harry. Give Draco back his plate.”

“But—”

“Now, little snake,” Tom said.

Grumbling like a small child who was just disciplined by his father, Harry took Draco’s plate and returned it in front of Draco. “Now apologize.”

“But—”

“Apologize Harry Potter, you’re not being nice right now,” Tom said.

Harry crossed his arms across his chest and said, “Sorry Draco.”

“Good. Now Draco, apologize to Harry,” Tom said calmly.

“Sorry Potter,” Draco said.

“Good,” Tom smiled. “Now, Draco, what was Harry trying to make you do? Harry, please don’t interrupt.”

“He wanted me to apologize to Weasley for no good reason,” Draco said.

“I see… and when did he ask you to do this?”

Draco’s cheeks started to burn. “Last night. …In my bed. He kissed my cheek.”

“I see…” Tom said slowly. “And you want Harry to kiss your cheek again?” Draco nodded. “Well, you need to learn manners for that, Draco, however the way Harry went about doing that is completely wrong. But don’t worry, that’s why I’m here.” He gives Draco a sly smile. “You will apologize to Ron Weasley for being mean to him and insulting his family, Draco, however, I will not force you to do it. You’ll do it under your own free will. Is that agreeable?”

“Yeah, it is,” Draco said, nodding.

“Good,” Tom said. “Until then, however, you are not allowed to touch Harry, or even be next to him.” He suddenly stood up, and motioned Harry to move to the side, which he did, allowing Tom to wedge himself between the blonde and brunet. He looked at Harry, “As for you, Harry, I will not kiss you tonight.”

Harry’s eyes went wide, “But Tom—fine…” He sighed and looked down at his food. Tom patted his back sympathetically.

“You can’t force people to change overnight, little snake,” Tom said to Harry in a soft, sweet voice. “It takes time, don’t you remember how long it took me to change you?”

“I just want Draco to be a Good Boy,” Harry said sadly, his lips barely moving. Tom sighed and shook his head. “I know little snake, but these things take time, like I said, you can’t teach someone manners and expect him to behave overnight!” Harry’s frown just deepened.

“I’m sorry for being stupid,” Harry said.

“No, don’t,” Tom said. “Harry, you are not allowed to call yourself stupid. Look at me.” Harry did. “Let’s put all this behind us, forget about your mistake for now, and just focus on our first class, alright?”

Harry sniffled but nodded. “Good,” Tom smiled. Harry cleaned his face and a second later it looked as if he wasn’t on the verged of crying at all. Professor Snape, along with the other Heads of Houses, moved from the staff table. They handed out the students’ schedules, and again Harry had the distinct feeling that Snape did not like him at all as he thrust the schedule in Harry’s hands, not even looking at the boy. Confused, Harry just unrolled his schedule to see what his first class was.

Hogwarts, as it turned out, was bigger than either Harry or Tom thought. There was a hundred and forty-two staircases; wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. There were doors that wouldn’t open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that wouldn’t really be doors at all, but solid walls just pretending to be it. It was very hard to remember where everything is.

Then, when Harry and Tom finally found their classrooms, there were the lessons themselves. They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movement of planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost, Professor Binns, who droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up. This was the only class that Harry had trouble staying awake and was dozing near the end, along with Ron who they shared the class with.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first lessons, he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry’s name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was again different. From the moment she gave Harry and Tom their letters, Harry guessed that she was not a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

“Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.”

Then she turned her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn’t wait to get started, but soon realized they weren’t going to be able to do that kind of magic in a long time. After taking a series of complicated notes that made Harry’s head spin, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger had made any difference to her match. Ron leaned towards Harry, who noticed and was gladden to see that the Gryffindors and Slytherins shared a lot of classes, and said, “She’s a bossy one, that one.”

Another class that the Gryffindors and Slytherins shared was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Everyone seemed to be looking forward for it, but Quirrell’s lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he’d met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren’t sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly how Quirrell fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and Ron told Harry that the twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Harry was both shocked, and a little scared, when, at the end of their first lesson, Professor Quirrell said, “M-M-Mr. R-Riddle… s-st-stay a-after class. …puh-please.”

“Just wait for me outside, alright little snake?” Tom asked Harry, who nodded. When class was over, Tom stayed in his seat while everyone else left. When the door closed behind the final student, Tom asked, “Is there anything I can help you with, Professor?”

“Y-yes…” Professor Quirrell said. Tom raised an eyebrow as the man seemed to pale in front of him drastically. Throughout the lesson, he seemed to be doing his best to avoid Tom, not even looking at the boy when he did roll call, or when Tom raised his hand. “I…I want to talk to you…”

“About what, Professor?” Tom asked. He did not leave his seat as Professor Quirrell stared at him, growing paler by the second. He thought he heard a small, light breeze of wind, and the next thing, Quirrell stepped up and said, “W-What d-d-d-do you r-r-remember a-a-about the t-thunderstorm?”

That got Tom’s interest and curiosity. How would Quirrell know about that? It’s impossible, only he and Harry knew about the storm that split himself in two. Staring at Quirrell, the boy frowned and thought to play dumb. “Thunderstorm? I’m sorry Professor, but thunderstorms happen frequently, it would help if you be more specific.”

“Do not mess with me!” Quirrell shouted, though his voice was light and breaking. “Y-You are Tom Riddle, no?”

“Yes Professor, that is my name,” Tom said politely.

“Master are you sure—” Quirrell asked, looking into the air. There was another breeze. Tom frowned, was Quirrell a madman or something? There was another breeze that almost sounded like syllables. “Master, you are not strong enough to…”

Tom, being an intelligent boy, frowned and said, “Are you talking to the other Tom Riddle… or are you completely mad?”

It was the breeze that answered him, giving a high, cold laugh. “You are… aren’t you?” Tom asked. Quirrell, who was turning so pale Tom wondered if blood was just leaving his body, turned shakenly away from the boy. He reached for his turban, and Tom had to keep his mouth shut as a rancid, odious smell filled the room. When the last of the turban fell away, Tom also had to hold in a scream as he stared, at the back of Quirrell’s head, was a malformed, bone-white face with snake-like eyes and slits for a nose. “So… this is what happened to you…” the face said.

For the first time in his life, Tom felt utterly scared. He did not show it, however, he just stared at the hideous face, doing his best to swallow all of his fear. He did not speak until he was sure that his voice would be even. “You are the other Tom,” he stated.

The other Tom just gave a laugh. “Idiot child… that is no longer my name…”

Tom frowned and stared at the abomination, thinking. “So, you are Lord Voldemort,” Tom said, and Quirrell gave a comical whimper and jumped into the air. Tom smirked and shook his head. Quirrell’s actions giving him some confidence at the silliness of the situation. “The Dark Lord… I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I did not read up on you…”

“Foolish child! Do not mock our Dark Lord—”

“Silence…” Voldemort hissed, addressing Quirrell before turning his attention back to Tom. “You should learn your place, boy.”

“I really hope my place is not where you are,” Tom sighed. He smirked at the Dark Lord, “You,” he said, pointing at the abomination, “tried to wage a war…killed hundreds of people, gathered followers. Am I correct?”

“Yes…”

“Then, something happened, something you did not anticipate,” Tom smirked. He stood up finally, and started making his way around his desk, towards Quirrell and Voldemort. “You went to kill the Potters… and died during it. You’ve killed my boy’s mother… his father… but you could not kill Harry Potter. And this, I assume, is the cost.”

Voldemort stared at Tom, a look of loathing anger and stubbornness. “I see that you at least have my intelligence—though you lack our cruelty.”

“Who said I lack that?” Tom asked. “Just because I do not torture little creatures does not mean that I am not cruel.” Tom gave Voldemort a cold smirk. “Your host is trembling, isn’t he? He is scared… so scare. But of who? I wonder.” Then, ignoring Voldemort, he walked around the two-faced man and stared at Quirrell. “Who are you afraid of?” he whispered. “Your master—who is no more than a parasite using you, or me? Another version of him, who has autonomy and, if I so desire it, can tell Dumbledore?”

Quirrell gave a frightful little noise, and Tom smirked.

“I could always kill you, child,” Voldemort threatened.

Tom hummed, “You could, but you won’t. You need me… or, at least you want me to help you with something. Why else would you reveal yourself to me, Tom Riddle?” At this point, Tom had circled around the two and again was facing Lord Voldemort, who had a stern look on his face.

“Too clever… yes, I need your assistance…”

“For what?”

“Kill Harry Potter,” Voldemort said at once.

“No,” Tom hummed. “That is not going to happen. You see, he is already my boy, my pet, and in the future,  I hope to ask him to be my lover. In order for that to happen, it would be best if he was alive to give consent.”

Voldemort glared at Tom angrily. “You are me!” he said. “You will do what I tell you to—”

“No I will not,” Tom said. “Forget about Harry, he is mine. But… no, that’s not the only reason you’re here, is it?”

Voldemort’s angry glare remained as he stared at the young boy. “What else are you here for?” Tom asked. “I will help you in that.”

“Tell me, boy,” Voldemort snarled, “Have you heard of the Philosopher’s Stone?”

Tom frowned, thinking for a moment. “I read a work of fiction that it was made by a man named Nicolas Flamel.”

“That was no fiction. It exists, and with it I can restore my body,” Voldemort explained. “As you can see… due to the actions Potter took, I was separated from my body, less than a ghost I was forced to survive, possessing animals… bidding my time… until Quirrell found me.”

“So you attached yourself to Quirrell, and now using him to make this Stone?” Tom asked.

“Make it?” Voldemort laughed coldly. “No…. the Stone is here, somewhere in the castle. …You will find it for me.”

“The Philosopher’s Stone… a stone of unlimited power,” Tom said slowly. In the back of his eyes, a dark twinkle began to shine as his mind whirled around, and a cruel smile appeared on his face. “I think I rather keep such a stone for myself,” he said. “You had your chance old man… and you’ve failed.”

“Betray me and I will make sure that you are forced to watch as I torture Potter to insanity,” Voldemort threatened. Tom frowned. Not wanting Harry to be involved, or hurt at all, Tom looked up at Voldemort. “Let me think.”

“I need an answer now.”

“Let me think,” Tom said again. “The last time we saw each other was when we were both five,” he said. “Let us not ruin our reunion by trying to kill each other.”

The two stared at each other. Then, finally, Voldemort said, “One Week. …Quirrell, I am growing tired…”

“Y-Y-Yes, my master,” Quirrell quivered, and he began to wrap the turban back onto his head. By the time he was done, Tom was already gone.

 

“So what did Professor Quirrell want?” Harry asked over dinner.

“Hmm?” Tom hummed. “Oh, nothing. Though, funny you mention him. It was during our talk that I’ve finally remembered where I saw the name Nicolas Flamel. That name on your Dumbledore Wizard Card.”

“Ohh? Where?” Harry asked, curious.

“It was in one of my books,” Tom said. “He is credited to making something called the Philosopher’s Stone, a stone of unlimited power. Turns out, he really exists.”

“Wow,” Harry said. “Unlimited power, huh… what would you do with that?”

“If I had unlimited power?” Tom asked. He pretended to think for a minute and turned to Harry, smiling, “Why Harry, I would make you the happiest boy in the world, of course.”

“Tom!” Harry blushed, but smiled.

“What about you?” Tom asked.

“Me?” Harry asked, still blushing. “I would… I would… I would find out who your parents were.”

“Harry…”

“I know that you worry about that, Tom,” Harry said. “And, if I had the stone, I would use it to help you.”

Filled by Harry’s honesty, kindness, love, and innocence, Tom descended upon the Potter, pressing his lips firmly against the boy’s cheek, his teeth accidently scrapping against the flesh before moving away, leaving the boy a beautiful, blushing red that was fuller than a rose’s hue. Giving him a small, gentle smile, Tom’s mind came to a conclusion. He looked at the Staff Table to see Professor Quirrell watching him, twitching slightly when his eyes met Tom’s. Tom chuckled at that, and turned back to Harry, who went to eating. He watched Harry eat for a moment, before leaning towards Draco, “A Good Boy,” he whispered, “wants to put their friends’ needs above all others. While their… let’s say protector put their Boy’s need in front of their own. That, ultimately, Malfoy, is what I mean by Good Boy. It is not manners, or how you act, but it is about putting people’s needs in front of your own. Harry does that naturally. Not once since I met him did he ever think of putting his wants in front of others’ needs. I, however, am horrible at it. I do not care, Draco, for anyone’s needs or wants that aren’t my own or Harry’s. I fail as a Good Boy, but, that is not me, for I am Harry’s protector. I have been ever since he walked into my room all those years ago, and through him I have learned to care. What I mean, Malfoy, is that now, you need to think to yourself: Who are you, and who you want to become. No matter what you answer, Draco, I promise you that I will do my part to transform you into your desires.”

He leaned back, letting Draco think on the words he said, then started to eat. Draco just stared at Tom for a long time, a permanent frown on his face. He did not talk for the rest of the night. For the first time, he did not address Crabbe and Goyle, nor did he even look at them. When he went to bed, he just muttered his good nights to both Tom and Harry, and closed the curtains around him.

The next morning, which was Friday, Draco went to the Gryffindor Table by himself. Harry saw this, and moved to get up, only for Tom to stop him. “Weasley,” Draco said loudly, getting the Gryffindor’s attention. “I apologize for what I said on the train.”

“Y..Yeah… um thanks, Malfoy…” Weasley said. They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment before breaking eye contact, Draco returning to the Slytherin Table. Harry smiled widely, “So, did you do it?” he asked.

Draco prepared his own plate and jabbed his fork into a cut piece of sausage before bringing it to his mouth. “I just apologized, it’s nothing special,” he muttered, before eating the sausage. Harry just smiled widely at him while Tom patted his back gently. Despite himself, Draco smiled, wishing for Tom’s hand to never leave him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you like Werewolves? How about Draco being the Weasley Twin's bottom while Harry has fun with Cedric? Look, do you just REALLY love Werewolves? And Knotting? Well good for you I have a new story! Harry's Pack whose first chapter is up now! So go check it out if you want to and excuse this self-promotion lol


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

“I found the other Tom.”

They were in the Slytherin common room. It was after curfew. Tom ordered Harry to sleep in his bed until they were sure everyone else was asleep before he gently woke the boy up. The common room looked even more scary to the young Potter than ever since there were no lights at all. The only source of illumination came from the wide window that looked out into the Black Lake, giving everything a tint of green.

“You have?” Harry asked. He was curled up next to Tom, who had his arm around him, a blanket covering them both.

“Yes,” Tom nodded. He frowned and turned his head toward Harry, “but I’m not sure if you’ll like it. …I don’t, it just makes me feel confused… guilty.”

“Guilty? Tom, why do you feel guilty?” Harry asked.

Tom looked at his boy and gave a soft, sad smile. He lowered himself and kissed the top of Harry’s head and breathed, “Because Harry I am…the other Tom is… is Voldemort.”

Silence followed, both boys not knowing what to say as they tried to comprehend what Tom just said. Harry stared at Tom, the boy who he grew up with and felt completely at eased with, the boy who he would do anything for, the boy he cared for above all others… how could this be? There was just no way, no way in hell that these two would be the same person—that the Tom he grew up with turned also into the man who killed his parents. He didn’t know how to feel.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry,” Tom whispered. “I don’t know why I did it but… I’m sorry.”

Harry stared at him, and he had a moment of clarity. No. There was no way that Tom Riddle, the boy he loved and grew up with was the one who killed his parents. It was the other Tom, the Tom who was stuck in the past when that strange lightning bolt struck them and brought his Tom to him. That Tom had no one to care for him like Harry’s Tom, that Tom most likely grew up alone, had no one but himself and his snakes.

No, the two Toms were separate people, but still… “You’re separate people,” Harry said. “You don’t need to say sorry.”

“But I killed your parents—or Voldemort did—who is me,” Tom said confused. “If that lightning bolt did not hit me I would not have separated but I still would have killed your parents.”

“But it did,” Harry said. “That lightning bolt did hit you, separated you two, somehow, and now you’re here with your good boy.” He nuzzled against Tom for emphasis.

The older boy sighed and shook his head. “And you’re very good to me Harry,” he said. “Always on your best behavior and listening… but please don’t try to distract me.”

“Sorry.”

Tom patted Harry’s shoulder. “So,” Harry asked a little hesitantly, “where… where is he?”

“He is in the castle,” Tom said. “It’s pathetic, really, he’s on the back of Quirrell’s head.” Harry stared at Tom, clearly disbelieving. “I know, it sounds absolutely ludicrous, but that is the truth, Harry.”

“So that time when Professor Quirrell asked you to stay behind?”

“Was when I first saw him,” Tom said. “He was not happy to see me… at least, I don’t think he was happy.” As he talked, a permanent frown developed his face. Harry laid on his chest as he listened, fully enraptured. “He wanted me to serve him I think, which will obviously never happen for many reasons, you know you’re the only one I’ll ever serve, Harry, my little snake, which brings me to a second thing. He wanted me to kill you.”

Harry gave a short gasp. “Kill me?”

“Yes… I don’t know why he is so focused on killing you, but that is what he wanted me to do,” Tom frowned. “Which is ridiculous! I feel guilty when I give you a small cut—but killing you? Obviously that will never happen.”

“But you’re still here so he must’ve not get very angry about it,” Harry said.

“No, no he got angry… Harry, Harry, I was afraid in there with him,” Tom admitted. “But, I stood my ground, and told him that you are mine, and he can’t do anything about that.”

“Got that right,” Harry said softly, smiling at Tom.

“But… that wasn’t all,” Tom said. “He is here for something, something very dangerous.”

“What is it?”

“The Philosopher’s Stone,” Tom said. “It exists, it really exists. And Voldemort wants it. Right now, he is just this disgusting pale nose-less thing on the back of Quirrell’s head. But he told me that with the Stone, he would be able to get his body back.”

“That would be awful,” Harry gasped. “Tom, we have to tell somebody!”

“No, no we won’t,” Tom said, getting a strange look in his eyes.

“But Tom—”

“I want to learn more about Voldemort and the Philosopher’s Stone,” Tom said. “I hate not knowing everything the other Tom did, what I missed, besides, I made a promise to him that I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“But you just told me,” Harry said. Tom gave him a smirk. “Of course, I did Harry,” he said, “you’re my boy, my little snake, my pet. I tell you everything.”

“So what are you going to do?” Harry asked.

“He gave me a week to think about it,” Tom said. “Honestly, I was thinking of just delaying until I know more… then I will figure out what is best for us.”

Harry nodded. He looked up at Tom and said, “You know… if you want, I think you can make a better Dark Wizard than him.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I mean, you can walk around for one thing,” he gave a sly smile, “and… you have me.”

“And I’m never letting you go, Potter,” Tom said. “You’re too good to me.”

Harry smiled for a moment before having a thoughtful expression. “So… we’re supposed to act like everything is normal? How are we supposed to do that?” he asked.

“That, Harry, will be very hard,” Tom said. “When Voldemort asked me for my answer… I will agree to work with him… me… but only for a while.”

“How long of a while?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know,” Tom said. “Until we know everything? Or until we can find the perfect time to tell Dumbledore.”

“Dumbledore!” Harry gasped. “He’s the only one Voldemort is afraid of, yeah?”

“Yes, he is,” Tom said. “I believe, Harry, that as long as Dumbledore is here, we are safe. For Voldemort would not dare attack us with him around.”

“So…” Harry said, the cogs in his mind turning, “Can I get this laid out? You are going to work with Voldemort… learn about him and the Philosopher’s Stone… then tell Dumbledore about it?”

“Basically, yes,” Tom said. “However, Harry, you do not have to worry. I’m a quick reader, and we will be gone of the old Tom soon enough.”

“Couldn’t you just tell Dumbledore right now?” Harry asked.

“If we tell Dumbledore now, then Voldemort will go for us,” Tom said.

“He’s going to go for us anyway,” Harry said.

“Yeah, but I would like to delay that for as much as possible,” Tom said. “Look, Harry, let me just try and see how close he is to the Philosopher Stone—see if he knows where it is.”

“Then what? You’re going to try and steal it for yourself?” Harry asked.

“What? No… maybe. I don’t know,” Tom said. “I mean… it’s unlimited power Harry…”

Harry frowned. He looked up at Tom and sighed. “If…how about… how about we leave the Stone alone? I mean, if Dumbledore and Flamel hid it for a reason, we should keep it at that. Besides, we’re two eleven-year-old boys. We just started learning magic. I’m sure there will be other times to get more power.”

“So, you’re saying to stop the other me and leave the stone where it is?” Tom asked.

“That and focus on turning Draco into a Good Boy, yes,” Harry nodded.

Tom laughed softly and shook his head. “You are something special, Harry,” he said. “Alright, I’m convinced. We leave the stone alone… after I can learn all about what the other Tom did.”

“That seems fair,” Harry hummed. “And in the meantime, we’ll have to pretend like everything is normal… and turn Draco into a Good Boy.”

“Exactly, my little snake,” Tom said. He kissed the top of Harry’s head again. “Come on, pet, we need our sleep,” he said, yawning for the first time. Harry agreed, and the two walked back to the boy’s dormitory, where they slept in Tom’s bed.

 

Harry did not know how exactly he was going to pretend that he did not know that on the back of Quirrell’s head was the man who killed his parents. When he was in the Great Hall it was easy, he just did not look at the staff table, not that he had any want or need to, but when he was in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry had to just focus on his work and do his best to think about anything and everything else. During these times, his thoughts usually turned to Tom. Particularly their nightly kisses and hand-holding.

It worked most of the time, but every now and then Harry noticed Quirrell’s strange stares, his periodic glances towards Harry filled with fright, nervousness, apprehension and, above all, terror. He was not, Harry assumed, terrified of the young raven-haired boy sitting in the middle of the classroom wearing his Slytherin robes, no instead he must have been terrified of the wisp or monster at the back of his head.

At least Harry had flying lessons to look forward to. They had them with the Gryffindors every Thursday. It was taught by a witch called Madam Hooch, who had short grey hair and yellow eyes like a hawk’s. Draco tended to boast loudly at how good he was on a broom, and that he could easily be on the Quidditch Team if it was not for that “stupid first-year ban.”

At one thirty in the afternoon, Draco was able to prove how “good” he was at flying brooms. Everything Madam Hooch told them to do, Draco was able to do flawlessly but also, much to their surprise, Harry. He was just as good, if not better, than Draco. At the end of the lesson, Draco was complaining. “Stupid Potter… thinking he can be better at me at flying.”

Harry growled angrily and turned to glare at Draco, but Tom stopped him. “Boys, behave,” he chuckled. “Draco, that was not a good thing to say.”

“Don’t—”

“I know that you are jealous,” Tom said, “but that does not mean you can talk like that.”

“I had years of practice on my broomsticks at home!” Draco yelled. “And he just gets on it and does perfectly on day one!”

Harry blushed awkwardly, “It was just like riding a bicycle,” he said a little meekly to Tom. The older boy chuckled and said, “Draco, don’t be so mad that Harry knows how to handle a broom. I’m sure that there is much that you can teach him, isn’t that right Harry?”

“Huh—yeah, yeah there is,” Harry nodded. He turned to look at Draco over his shoulder. “I don’t know anything about riding brooms Draco, I know that you are much better than I am… so maybe you can teach me one day?” He gave the boy a small smile.

“Fine,” Draco said, his cheeks reddening slightly. “But only because you admit that I am better than you at flying.”

Harry smiled and grasped Tom’s hand, squeezing it. They had just avoided one large headache from their pet project.

During dinner, both Harry and Tom excused themselves to go to the bathroom. Tom felt a hand grip his arm harshly just before he went into it, spun around, and saw the nervous looking face of Professor Quirrell.

“Y-Y-you’ll m-meet me on th-the third-floor corridor, to-tonight at midnight,” he said before he ran off.

Tom frowned. He again felt the same shiver of fear as he thought about the other version of himself. He went into the bathroom. “Harry,” he called out.

“Busy!”

“He just talked to me,” Tom said as he went into his own stall. Harry was apparently next to him as he called out, “What!?” and there was a quick sound of flushing.

“Quirrell told me to go with him and meet him tonight at midnight at the third-floor corridor,” Tom said.

“Third floor… isn’t that where Dumbledore told us it was forbidden?” Harry asked.

“Exactly.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Well, go with him of course,” Tom said. “If we know where exactly the stone is hidden, then it will be all the easier to convince Dumbledore of the trouble.”

“It sounds really dangerous,” Harry said. Tom could hear the boy’s frown in his voice.

“Don’t worry little snake,” Tom said calmingly, “I will be back before you know it.”

Harry was quiet. Tom finished his business and walked outside his stall to see Harry standing by the sinks. “Wash your hands,” he said lightly.

“Tom… what if this hurts you?” Harry said apprehensively.

“Harry, I’m sure that—”

“No, listen to me,” Harry said. Tom looked at the boy and saw the frustration and anger starting to bubble. “What if this hurts you? What if it’s something that can actually kill you? If that stupid stone is hidden here then whatever is hiding it must be deadly right? We’ve been here for a little over a month Tom! That is too soon for you to even start looking for dangerous situations, that’s not like you.”

“So what do you want me to do? Run away and have that lunatic try and kill you?” Tom demanded.

“Yes! Exactly!” Harry said. “Run away—go to Dumbledore! Threat or no Voldemort is scared of him, so use him! Come on Tom, you’re supposed to be good at using people, you do it all the time at the orphanage so why not here?”

“I am using people—”

“I don’t believe you,” Harry said.

“Excuse me?” Tom said.

Harry stood his ground. “I said, that I don’t believe you’re using them. Not to the extent you did in the orphanage. Tom, I want you to be safe, so be safe—use Dumbledore, use Filch—hell use anybody to get yourself out of danger.”

Tom frowned. It was true, he was not using people like he usually do. Sighing, he shook his head, “I’m sorry, Harry, knowing that the other me is here just really shook me off. I’ll… I’ll do better.”

“Good,” Harry said. “I missed that part, Tom, I really do.” He turned the sink on, and the two washed their hands in silence.

When they returned to the Great Hall, they walked back to the Slytherin Table, but Harry didn’t sit down. “I’ll be back,” he said to Tom, “I need to ask Professor McGonagall about our homework.”

He made his way up to the Staff Table, earning some curious eyes from both the students and staff. “Umm… Professor McGonagall…” he said, stopping in front of his Transfiguration Teacher.

“Yes Mr. Potter, is there something I can help you with?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“There…I…I need to talk to you about…something… please,” Harry said, his voice as meek as he could make it, his eyes darting everywhere, making himself look as uncomfortable and scared as possible.

“Of course, what is it?”

“Can…can we…do this outside… please?” Harry pleaded.

Professor McGonagall looked confused. Harry took a step forward, his body pressed against the staff table, as he whispered very softly. “It’s… it’s about Professor Quirrell… and Tom and I.”

“I see… follow me,” Professor McGonagall said, frowning. The two walked out of a small door at the side of the Great Hall behind the Staff Table. Harry continued to look uncomfortable as Professor McGonagall closed the door behind them. “What exactly is the problem, Mr. Potter?”

“It’s… it’s about Professor Quirrell,” Harry said. He had to control himself to keep his voice even. “I…I don’t know if he did anything yet but… but… he keeps looking at Tom and me… different from how he looked at the other students. Sometimes during dinner I catch him staring at us. It’s, it’s scaring me. And… and a couple weeks ago… Professor Quirrell told Tom to stay with him after class alone. I don’t know what happened but my friend wasn’t the same ever since!”

“I see… that is very troubling, Mr. Potter, but may I ask why you have come to me and not, say, your Head of House, Professor Snape?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“You’re the Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall,” Harry said at once. “And… and Tom… he…”

“Did not want you to tell Professor Snape?” Professor McGonagall offered.

Harry nodded.

“This is a very serious accusation you are giving Harry,” Professor McGonagall said. “Do you understand that?”

“I think so,” Harry said. “I heard the older Slytherins talking about touching themselves and others—but I don’t know exactly what that means.”

Professor McGonagall frowned. “In that case, Mr. Potter, should Professor Quirrell seemingly acts on these stares, if he asks you or Mr. Riddle to stay with him alone in his classroom after class again—or at any time at all, then you are to immediately go to either me or Headmaster Dumbledore. I will, of course, be notifying both the Headmaster and Professor Snape of what you brought up.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry said.

“You may go and finish your meal now,” Professor McGonagall dismissed Harry. Harry nodded and turned his back to Professor McGonagall, leaving the small room and joining Tom again. He made sure to keep the guilty look for the rest of the meal, never looking up from his food, never looking in the direction of the Staff Table. He did not talk to Tom, or Draco, or Blaise about what he has done. It was only when they were alone in the Slytherin Dungeons, when the boys were getting changed into their pajamas for the night, that Harry allowed himself to smirk victoriously.

His eyes flashed an erotic, dangerous green, his eyebrows seemed to become pointed, teeth becoming almost animalistic in this one, formidable smirk that sent a chill into the hearts of everyone who saw it. Even Tom Riddle, the boy who prided himself on his ability to use people, felt a hint of terror as he stared at the smirking face of Harry Potter.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

It was Halloween, and Harry was scared. There was a troll in the dungeons, let loose by Professor Quirrell no doubt, who earlier ran in and pretended to faint after announcing the troll’s presence. Now everyone was sent back to their dorms. Well, not everyone. As soon as most people were gone, Quirrell “awoken” and went to get Tom, who dutifully followed the professor. What neither of them knew, however, was that Harry was following them also.

As he thought, the pair made their way to the third-floor corridor. Harry followed at a distance, scared that Voldemort might somehow sense him. They stopped at an old-looking door at the end of a very deserted and dirty corridor. “Here,” a voice from nowhere whispered. “Go inside, boy.”

Tom looked as if he did not want to, but he opened the old door, and closed it behind him. A moment later he returned. “The dog is still there, and it looks as if the trapdoor it’s guarding still hasn’t been touched.”

“And you… you have not found a way—”

“No, I have not,” Tom said, glaring at Quirrell. “I’ve been busy.”

Quirrell gave a small yelp. The voice from nowhere rose up like a hiss, “That is no excuse. You are proving to be… disappointing.”

“Says the version of myself who has no body,” Tom said. “Quirrell is to scared to harm me, so don’t bother threatening me.”

“No… but he will harm Potter if ordered to,” the voice said. Harry felt a dreadful icy feeling freeze his core.

“Don’t you dare—”

“Then do what I command,” the voice hissed. “Or Potter will die.”

Tom stopped. Glaring at the man he spat out, “Fine. I’ll look into it.”

“Good.”

“Now, if that is all, I’m leaving,” Tom said.

“N-No one leaves without my master’s permission,” Quirrell sputtered out. Tom stopped to look at him.

“All students are expected to be in their dormitories at this time,” Tom said. “If you want my further assistance, it would help if I was not in trouble for being out of bed.”

“Leave us then,” the voice said. Tom turned and began walking away from Quirrell and towards Harry. Harry did his best to hug the corner he was hiding in, sucking in his gut and breath as Tom came closer and closer. He gritted his teeth as he watched Tom walk past him, his expression looking livid. Harry could feel his anger radiate off of the boy. He looked back at the old door to see that Quirrell was already gone. Thinking that he had a chance, he ran up to Tom.

“You shouldn’t have followed me Harry,” Tom said.

“I was worried,” Harry said. “I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

“Harry—”

“Hold me,” Harry pleaded. “Just so I know you’re safe.”

Tom gave him a small, private smile and wrapped an arm around the boy. Harry leaned into his Tom and gave a sigh of content. I’m so scared whenever you go with him,” he said.

“You don’t have to be scared, Harry, I’m fine,” Tom said.

“Tom—”

“No, no don’t start this,” Tom said.

“Please…” Harry said meekly, “don’t worry your little snake so much. Every time he looks at you, I can’t help but feel scared. Every time that man is near you… Tom, please.”

“Harry,” Tom sighed. “I must be a horrible protector. I’m supposed to look out for my Good Boy, and instead I’m only making him worry more.”

“No! No, you’re doing good,” Harry said. “It’s just, you can’t expect me to just sit down and watch you do this.”

Tom sighed and shook his head. “Harry, we’re going to have to have a long talk in the future. I’m the Dom, you’re the sub. My job is to protect you.”

“Okay, I don’t know what those are, but that sounds fake," Harry said. “We take care of each other. Like we always do.”

“Harry,” Tom smiled, “you’re too good for me.”

“No, I’m exactly what you deserve,” Harry said. “Come on, let’s get some sleep. In my bed tonight.”

“Alright, little snake,” Tom chuckled. They made their way back to the dungeons in comfortable silence. The common room was deserted when they returned. Everyone else was asleep. Sneaking into their dormitory, they were surprised to see that Draco was up waiting for them. “Where were you?” he asked.

“You were worried about us?”

“I—yeah,” Draco admitted. “So, where were you?”

“We… we had something important to do,” Tom said.

“I’m sorry Draco, we’ll tell you later,” Harry said. He was expecting the blonde to argue, but was surprised when he nodded and said, “Alright… at least I know you two are safe.”

He went back to his bed and pulled the covers over him.

“He was worried about us,” Harry whispered.

“I know… surprising isn’t it?” Tom smirked. “How does it feel, Harry?”

“Good,” Harry smiled. “It’s… it’s nice.”

“Good,” Tom repeated. “I think he learned a lesson. Come on, let’s go to sleep.”

The two changed and slipped into Harry’s bed. Harry cuddled around Tom, lying on his chest. Feeling totally relaxed, Harry let out a soft hum, “I don’t know what a Dom it,” he said, “but I’m glad you’re mine.”

“I’m glad you’re my sub, Harry,” Tom said. “My little snake…”

 

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Harry and Tom loathed to even think about going outside. It became a common sight to see the two of them huddled together for warmth with Draco, Blaise, and Theo following them. The first Quidditch game of the season was coming up, and Harry couldn’t help but get swept along with the excitement.

“I wish I could play it,” he told Tom one day. “Think about it! Me riding a broomstick and—and—wait, how do you play Quidditch?”

Tom chuckled and shook his head. “If it can keep you the way you are, I say go for it.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I like you nice and small Harry,” Tom joked. “Makes you look cuter, and I can lift you up easier.”

Harry rolled his eyes and said, “Just for that, I’m going to work on becoming as big as I can be!”

“Just know little snake, that I will always be bigger,” Tom chuckled. Harry gave him a glare but broke it as he stuck out his tongue. “So, are we going to watch it or not?” Harry asked.

“I guess we should,” Tom sighed. “It is Slytherin pride and all that… and it’s a lovely day.” He pointed towards the ceiling of the Great Hall which was a clear, bright blue without any clouds in the sky. Harry smiled, and after breakfast the two of them followed the Slytherin crowd out of the school, down the grounds and towards the large Quidditch pitch. The two climbed the wooden staircases that led to the stands where the Slytherin students gathered. Tom and Harry sat next to Draco and looked around.

The stadium was an oval shape with three tall gold hoops on either side. Harry stared at them with curiosity. “So what’s going to happen?” he asked Draco.

Draco just rolled his eyes. “Just relax and watch, Potter,” he said. Harry stared at him for a moment but shook his head as soon as he saw the two teams walk out. They were all holding broomsticks. Tom pointed towards the Gryffindor team and said, “Look, I think those are Ron’s brothers.” He pointed to two redheads who looked burly.

“Oh yeah!” Harry smiled. He looked at the Slytherin team and frowned. He didn’t know any of them.

They walked towards the center of the field. The Quidditch Captains walked towards Madam Hooch and shook hands. They then mounted their brooms, and at Madam Hooch’s whistle, kicked off into the air.

It was a spectacular to watch. Both teams flew around, the Chasers throwing the bright red ball to each other, Draco told Harry that it was called the Quaffle, while the two captains, who were also the Keepers, defended the three hoops as the Chasers tried to score. Meanwhile the two beaters flew around, holding huge bats that they used to hit small balls called Bludgers that flew around on their own, trying to hit any player that they could. While all this was happening: Draco told Harry that the Seekers had to find the Golden Snitch or else the game would never end. “Of course, ours is the best Seeker in the school,” Draco boasted, “until I join.”

Harry ignored him and kept watching, his eyes on the search for the little golden ball that would end the game. He kept looking for ten straight minutes until, above the goal posts, he found it. The small golden ball hovering ten feet above the middle goal post. For some reason, the two seekers haven’t noticed it. Harry followed the snitch with his eyes as it flew around the field, going over stands, and diving towards the ground until, half an hour later, the two seekers finally noticed it. Harry watched with fever attention as the two Seekers raced for the Snitch until, at last, the Gryffindor seeker barely got the snitch before Slytherin’s.

The match was over: Gryffindor won.

Draco was not very happy. “I did not even see the Snitch! They must have cheated,” he muttered angrily.

“I was watching it for twenty minutes,” Harry said. “It was over there, then there, then it moved…” He moved his arm, pointing out the patch the Snitch took until the two Seekers finally noticed it.

Draco scowled at Harry and muttered something that he couldn’t hear. The boy just shrugged and looked at the Quidditch players. The boys were all burly looking, and for some reason that gave Harry an idea.

Later that day in the Slytherin Dungeon, Harry looked around, trying to find the captain of the Quidditch Team. According to Draco, his name was Marcus Flint. Harry wanted to know something that would help Harry get Quirrell away, but there was no way he was going to involve Tom or Draco into this.

He found the teen sitting in a corner, laughing with others around his age. Marcus looked relatively tall and muscular. When he laughed, Harry saw that he had big teeth, and his hands looked massive. Walking up to Flint, he said, “Hello… Flint?”

The sixth years all looked down at Harry. “What’chu want Potter?” Flint demanded, looking down at him.

“I want to know what sex is,” Harry said evenly. The sixth years all sputtered, whooping coughing and laughing at Harry’s request.

“You want to know—what—what’s sex is,” Flint laughed. “What? You want a ride or something?”

“No…I don’t know… I read in Tom’s books that sex makes people very happy, and I want to make Tom feel very happy, so please tell me what sex is so I can make Tom very happy,” Harry said with such perfectly childish logic that it sounded perfectly intelligent to the idiot Slytherins. He wasn’t lying either. Once or twice Harry liked to peek into Tom’s books where he found lots of actions and descriptions that confused the young boy.

“Starting younger and younger—so you want to know how to get fucked,” Flint said coarsely.

“Umm… yes, I do,” Harry said. He smiled at the older teenagers, “Please teach me how to get fucked,” he said in the most innocent tone he could muster. Some of the boys got red in the face while others laughed.

“Come on Flint, teach Potter how to get fucked,” one of them laughed.

“Yeah, give him a hands-on experience!”

“I ain’t a poof you nutters,” Flint roared at them angrily. He turned back to Harry. “Take your hands and put them on your ass,” he commanded.

Feeling silly, Harry placed his hands on his butt.

“You know how you shi—poop from your butt?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, clean it up real good, and you can get fucked there. That’s called anal and it’s the only way poofs can do it,” Flint said.

Harry frowned. “But… it’s small,” he said. “I don’t think Tom’s going to fit inside.”

“That’s why you stretch it first,” Flint said. “Look—” He took his hand and made a fist. “This is your ass, right? You stick wet fingers and wiggle around see.” He stuck a finger into his fist and moved it around. His fist started to open up a little. “Then two—then three, then four if wanna be fucked by me.” His friends laughed in disbelief, one of them saying, “You barely need one for Flint!” but Harry ignored him. He watched as flint’s fist opened up more and more as he fingered it.

“Once it’s big enough, then he fucks you,” Flint finished. “Questions?”

“So…” Harry held up a fist. “I do this…” He licked his finger and stuck it into his fist. It felt strangely wet and cold as he wiggled it around, letting his fist open up. “Then this,” he licked his second finger, then third, then fourth—“but what if I do this too?” He made his free hand into a fist and punched it through his open fist.

The sixth years all laughed. “Kinky bloke,” one of them said.

“That’s next time Potter,” Flint laughed. “Now get away, you’re killing me!”

“Okay, thank you Flint, you were great at the game by the way,” Harry smiled. “Though your Seeker sucks. I was watching the Snitch for twenty minutes before they saw it. Bye!” He waved at them and turned to leave. That night, he decided he was going to practice, just to make sure. Then, when he was sure he could do it quickly enough, he would run to Professor McGonagall.

After all, Quirrell’s hands are much bigger than Harry’s, so he had a lot of work to do to make it believable.

Closing the curtains around him, he made sure to give Tom two kisses that night for extra luck. Feeling extremely embarrassed, he began to take off his clothes before worrying that he wasn’t clean enough. Putting his clothes on again, Harry went to the bathroom and made sure that the toilet paper was clean twenty times before returning feeling relatively secure that he was clean. He returned to his bed and took off his pants. Licking his fingers, he swung his legs in the air and felt around.

It felt weird. Really weird. And a little hot. Still, Harry continued. The weirdness persisted as he pushed the first finger in, stayed with the second, and disappeared by the third. He was surprised at how flexible he was when he realized he had all his fingers except his thumb inside him. He sat there not knowing what to do. He wiggled his fingers a bit and the weirdness felt very good for a moment before going away. Frowning, he continued wiggling, his fingers pressing against the tightness of his hole and that good feeling returned. Suddenly, he felt a very strange sensation, like he had to pee really bad, but it wasn’t pee.

Harry was so shocked of this sensation that he pulled his fingers out of his hole rapidly. The cold air hitting him made the small boy groan. His butt just continued to feel very weird. Thinking he had enough practice, Harry quickly pulled his pants back on and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who might feel triggered at the sexual assault Harry is planning to frame Quirrell with... Sorry, it'll be done by next chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Harry practiced every night with his fingers and butt. By the time Christmas break was coming around, Harry could easily get all four fingers inside him in less than five minutes, wiggling them around until he felt more opened. Professor Snape came around with a form for the students staying at Hogwarts during the break, and Harry and Tom were the first ones to sign it. They had no want to return to the orphanage. Harry was happy to hear that Ron and the Weasleys were staying at the castle as well. Though they were in different Houses, Harry made it a point to be with them as much as they want, even if it’s to give Ron updates on how Draco is doing in becoming a Good Boy.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was their last class before break, and it was as slow and boring as any other class. However, just as Harry was packing with the rest of the class to leave, Professor Quirrell said, “P-Potter! Stay behind… puh-please.”

Harry and Tom frowned at each other. “I’ll meet you at dinner,” Harry said. Tom nodded and, giving Professor Quirrell one last look, walked out of class.

“Is something the matter, Professor?” Harry asked once the two of them was alone.

“Yes… your—your homework,” Professor Quirrell said. “You were supposed to write about—about curing werewolf bites.”

“What about it?” Harry asked, giving the Professor a confused look. He did as he asked during the assignment, writing about how to cure werewolf bites, as well as the fact that they are usually lethal, especially to muggles.

“You g-g-give spe—specific instructions,” Professor Quirrell said. “O-On how to ma-make the mixture.”

“I wasn’t supposed to do that?” Harry asked, cocking his head to the side.

“N-No…Th-this is too de-detail. I-I-I want to know who you had help from,” Professor Quirrell sputtered. Harry stared at him in confused, he didn’t have help, he just did the homework.

“Nobody—”

“Don’t lie to me Potter!” Quirrell yelled. “I-I’ll be see-seeing Snape about this. G-G-Get out.”

Harry frowned. “Sir, I didn’t have anyone’s help,” he insisted. “I did the homework as you told us to do! You wanted us to write about cures of a werewolf bite, so I did.”

“T-Ten points from Slytherin!”

“I did nothing wrong!”

“T-Twenty points!”

Harry glared at Quirrell and said to himself, “Tsk.” He looked at Quirrell and said evenly, “Fine. Go to Professor Snape, and he’ll tell you the same thing. I did not get anyone’s help.” He took his bag and shouldered it. He left the classroom and stopped in front of the closed door. His mind working fast, he quickly moved to a nearby room and made sure that his clothes looked disheveled. Then he waited. When he was sure that dinner was halfway over, he made sure that his clothes kept their filthy, disheveled look, as if someone tried to tear them off or Harry put them on in a hurried, then he walked, slowly, towards the Great Hall, his head downcast.

Making his way to his seat between Tom and Draco, Harry stayed quiet as he ate dinner, never looking up from his plate, which he barely ate, even though he was hungry. “Harry? Little snake, what’s wrong?” Tom asked.

Harry didn’t answer. For all he knew, both Quirrell and Professor McGonagall could be watching.

“Harry? Speak to me,” Tom said. “That’s an order.”

Harry looked up at Tom. He had to force himself from smiling. He didn’t know who could be watching. He leaned close to Tom and whispered, “I’ll tell you after dinner, in bed,” before returning to playing with his food.

Tom frowned but nodded.

When dinner was over, Tom took Harry’s hand and dragged the boy into the Slytherin common room in the dungeons. They walked past everyone, avoiding everything, until they were in Tom’s bed, the curtains drawn.

“Now, speak,” Tom ordered.

Harry nodded and looked up at Tom. He had a huge smirk on his face. “This break, we get rid of Voldemort,” he said.  

“How?”

“I have a plan—a plan that will work,” Harry said. “All you have to do is trust me, and follow my lead, ok? I will bring Quirrell to Professor Dumbledore, and you expose him as Voldemort.”

“Ok,” Tom nodded. “I trust you. Though, can I ask what you’re going to do?”

Harry smiled and leaned close to Tom. He kissed Tom’s lips, lingering there as he took Tom’s hand and moved it towards his butt. Pressing Tom’s hand against his butt, with Harry’s hand over Tom’s, the small Slytherin moved back and smiled, “I’m going to tell Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape that Professor Quirrell put his fingers right in here.”

Tom’s eyes widen in surprise. “You mean—”

“I know what sex is Tom, geez,” Harry chuckled. “I practiced every night. You never wondered why I didn’t want you in my bed? It’s because I was practicing putting my fingers in here.” He squeezed Tom’s hand against his butt. “I can fit four in now easily. I don’t even need much spit anymore.” Tom’s eyes continued to widen as he stared at Harry.

“When did my pure little snake become so… so…”

“I’m doing this for you,” Harry smiled. “I told you, I’d do anything to keep you safe. Besides, now I know what to do when we’re older.” He gave Tom a wink and kissed him again.

Tom returned the kiss, his hand groping Harry’s ass as his other held the back of Harry’s head tightly, puling his hair. “I think I like this new Harry,” Tom growled out before kissing him again.

Harry just giggled and smiled lazily when they separated. “So, do you approve?”

“Yes Harry, I approve very much,” Tom said.

“Good. Then we’ll do it the second day of break,” Harry said.

“Can’t wait, my little snake,” Tom said. “Now kiss me more for luck.”

Harry obeyed.

 

Harry and Tom were the only Slytherins who stayed at the castle during the Christmas break. The day before Christmas, Harry went up to Tom and smiled, “I’m going to do it now,” he said. “Do you know what you’re going to say?”

“Of course,” Tom said. “If Voldemort truly fears Dumbledore, then we have nothing to worry about. Dumbledore must be worried about me, wondering if I will end up like Voldemort, how I came here in the first place… I’m sure it’ll be easy to convince him.”

Harry nodded. For some reason, his chest was vibrating with nerves. He looked up at Tom and bit his lower lip. “I’m scared,” he said.

“I know… just picture it’s me, okay?” Tom said, taking Harry’s fingers. “Every action you do is for my good, right?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded.

“Then, imagine that your fingers are mine,” Tom said. “I’ll be waiting for you just outside. We’ll go and tell McGonagall together.”

“Yeah… yeah, good,” Harry nodded. He looked around at the empty common room around them. “You sure you don’t want to watch?” he asked nervously.

Tom gave a soft laugh and shook his head. “No Harry, the first time I want to see your ass like that is when I’m preparing you,” he said.

“Okay.” Harry nodded. He leaned forward and kissed Tom before running back to their dormitory. Tom waited in the common room, sitting in an armchair are reading one of his “adult” books. Twenty minutes later Harry came running down. His robe was off, and the back of his pants were ripped, as well as his underwear. “I put my whole hand in!” he breathed. “It still feels so weird and empty!”

“Then let’s hurry—why did you tear your clothes?” Tom asked.

“To show that I was attacked,” Harry said.

Tom quickly took off his robe and placed it on Harry. “Come on, little snake, we must find McGonagall—or Snape,” he said. Harry nodded and the two ran out of the common room. The air was cold against Harry’s butt, and he shivered as his insides felt as if they were freezing even through Tom’s robes. Snape’s office was in the dungeons, so they tried there first. Professor Snape’s annoyed voice answered on the third knock. “Enter.”

Tom opened the door and they walked in. “What is it?” Professor Snape asked impatiently.

“Sir—it’s Harry,” Tom said, looking genuinely scared. “He—Professor Quirrell—”

“Professor Quirrell?” Professor Snape asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry made sure to jump a little at the name.

“Harry—tell him, tell him what Quirrell did,” Tom said frantically.

Harry shook, and looked down, giving an impression that he is totally ashamed.

“I’m waiting,” Professor Snape said impatiently. Harry looked up, Snape was still sitting in his desk, a large pile of scrolls next to him.

Harry felt like he couldn’t find the words. Even worse, he felt also that any words he would manage to say would only make his least favorite teacher more annoyed as he tried to blubber through a lie of him being forcefully fingered. So instead, he grabbed the back of the robe he was wearing, turned around and said in a small voice, “Professor Quirrell did this to me,” before bending over and pulling his robes up, showing his ripped pants, underwear, and opened butthole to Professor Snape.

Snape was quiet for a moment. Harry squinted his eyes as he kept still. Tom watched, amazed, as what little color was left in the Potion Master’s face drained away. “I see… you two will come with me immediately to the headmaster,” he said at last, and the two followed him outside, sharing a secret smile between them.

Professor Snape led them out of the dungeon, and up the marble staircase to the third floor and turned down into a corridor that led to a dead end with a gargoyle standing in front of a wall. “Lemon Drop,” Snape sneered, and the gargoyle jumped to life, springing out of the way as the wall slid open, revealing a spiraling staircase that moved up out of the floor. The three stepped onto the steps and rode the staircase up to a grand wooden door, which Professor Snape knocked on.

“Enter,” the voice of Headmaster Dumbledore said.

Professor Snape opened the door and ushered the two inside. “Tell him, Potter,” Snape said.

“Ahh, Harry, and Tom, so good of you to come visit me,” Professor Dumbledore smiled, “though,” his smile faded slightly, “I fear that you have a dreadful reason.”

Harry frowned. “Professor Quirrell… he stuck his… he…”

“Professor Quirrell, has apparently sexually assaulted Potter,” Snape said. “Show him.” He barked.

Harry trembled and turned his back towards Dumbledore. “I’m sorry sir,” he muttered before again lifting up Tom’s robes and showing his destroyed pants, underwear, and hole.

Dumbledore stared at Harry for a moment, frowning, before looking up at Snape. “Fetch Madam Pomfrey immediately,” he said, and Snape left. Dumbledore turned to Harry as he closed his robes. “Harry, though it is painful, I must ask you to tell me exactly what happened.”

Harry sniffled and nodded. He sat himself down in a chair in front of Dumbledore and looked at the headmaster right in the eye. Keeping his voice even, he said, “Professor Quirrell is… he was always staring at me, or Tom. Before… before break he wanted me to stay behind class. He didn’t like the way I did my homework. Told me that there was too much information, that I had someone’s help—but I didn’t! I did all that work on my own! He took points away and—and told me to come back to him during break. I didn’t want to lose more points or get detention, so I did.

“He… he told me to take off my pants. I didn’t so he ripped my pants and underwear and—and—stuck his fingers inside. It hurt so bad, I couldn’t stop crying. He stuck two fingers inside me then pulled them out. I heard him unbuckling his pants…I ran away… ran back to the Slytherin Common Room and Tom. He convinced me to go to Snape and… and…” Harry felt his eyes starting to water and brought his chin to his chest.

“That is enough,” Dumbledore said softly. “Madam Pomfrey will be here soon and she will heal any wounds you’ve suffered.”

Harry nodded softly and looked up at Dumbledore. “Are you going to send me away when he comes in?” he asked.

“Would you like that, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

“No. I would like to be here,” Harry said. He looked at Tom. “There’s more about him that we need to tell you.”

“Harry,” Tom whispered warningly.

“We might as well,” Harry said. “Before he gets here.”

“Harry—fine,” Tom sighed. He looked at Dumbledore and frowned. “Professor Dumbledore, sir,” he said, “I know you know me.”

“What do you mean, Tom?” Headmaster Dumbledore asked.

“You know that I am Voldemort—or at least we are the same person split,” Tom said. “When I was five, I was hit by a lightning bolt that split myself in two. One of me stayed at Wool Orphanage and became Lord Voldemort while the other, me, somehow traveled to this time, where I met and befriended Harry.”

“Even if this is true, why bring it up now, Tom?” Dumbledore asked.

“Because, sir, Quirrell currently has Voldemort on the backside of his head,” Tom said. “That is the reason why he was obsessed with me. Voldemort wanted me to help him steal the Philosopher’s Stone… which is hidden in the third-floor corridor, under that three-headed dog.”

Dumbledore frowned. “This is a serious accusation, Mr. Riddle. You are talking about various things that you shouldn’t know.”

“Then it is a good thing, Professor, that I am speaking the truth, and Voldemort will be here shortly along with Professor Quirrell who has assaulted my dear friend,” Tom said.

Dumbledore looked between the two boys. Harry was staring at his feet again, wincing at the cold air that went inside him while Tom kept an even stare at the old man. He thought about his fears of the young Riddle, that this boy would turn out exactly like the other Tom did, and, as if throwing a weight off his shoulders that crushed his soul, Dumbledore put his fears to rest, knowing that the young Tom Riddle before him will not end up like Lord Voldemort.

The three sat in silence until Snape returned with Madam Pomfrey. The school nurse looked sympathetic and brought Harry away from the three for a moment. Dumbledore looked at Snape and frowned. “Bring Quirrell here,” he said in a serious tone. Professor Snape nodded and left again.

Dumbledore turned to Tom and leaned forward. “How did this happen?” he asked. “How exactly did you get here?”

“If you’re talking about the lightning bolt then I don’t know,” Tom said. “A freak display of nature, a god of some kind choosing to play around, pure dumb luck, pick whichever you prefer Dumbledore. Though, I must wonder, you know everything about my past, correct?”

“If you are talking about the life Lord Voldemort lived, then yes, I do,” Dumbledore said.

“I don’t care about his life,” Tom said harshly. “I only care about mine. He and I are nothing alike.”

“That is comforting to hear,” Dumbledore said.

 _I am stronger,_ Tom thought to himself, _I will be more then that pitiful excuse._ “I want to know about my life, my parents.”

“What about them?”

“Am I a muggleborn?” Tom asked.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, as if contemplating the answer. After a moment’s contemplation, he asked slowly, “Would it matter if you are muggleborn or not?”

“I don’t know my parents, am I muggleborn?” Tom repeated. “I asked Voldemort and he refuses to answer.”

Dumbledore remained silent. Tom frowned and crossed his arms. “Is there a reason why you aren’t telling me, sir?” he asked.

“Lord Voldemort, too, was curious about his parentage, however after he has found out he became disappointed, if not angry,” Dumbledore said. “Your lineage contains certain people best forgotten, and a line of extremist who have dwindled away.”

“Who are my parents. Which one is the wizard?” Tom asked. “My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. Tom is from my father, Marvolo is from my mother’s father. Which one was the wizard?”

Dumbledore frowned. “Marvolo was the wizard, Tom. You are a half-blood. Not that it matters.”

“I see… thank you,” Tom said. They were quiet again. Madam Pomfrey came back with Harry, who immediately when to Tom. Madam Pomfrey moved to Dumbledore and the two had a private exchange.

“What did she do?” Tom whispered in Harry’s ear.

“She checked me, see if I was bleeding, and asked me to tell her what happened,” Harry whispered. “I told her the same story I told Dumbledore.”

“Good boy,” Tom muttered, hugging his boy. Harry gave a small smile and relaxed into Tom. Dumbledore noticed this and flicked his wand, the chair expanding to easily fit two people.

The two remained quiet as Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey spoke. Then, when she was done, she left. Just as she moved towards the door, it opened, Snape bringing in Professor Quirrell.

“P-Professor D-Dumbledore…. Snape to-told me you wanted to s-s-see me?” Quirrell sputtered.

“Indeed, I do,” Dumbledore said gravely. “Professor Snape, thank you for all you have done, you’re free to leave,” he looked over at Snape, who nodded and left. Tom turned around and gave Quirrell a sadistic grin that Dumbledore couldn’t see.

“It has come to my attention, Professor Quirrell, that you both are not who you said you are and have conducted severely inappropriate behavior in regard to student/teacher relationships,” Headmaster Dumbledore said.

“I-I don’t know what you mean.”

“Stop with the quivering Quirrell, he knows I’m on the back of your head,” Tom smirked.

Quirrell’s face paled in terror. “Master—Master please,” he begged. “I don’t know—”

“Fool…” A voice from nowhere said. “Useless fool…”

“Tom, reveal yourself,” Dumbledore ordered, his hand going for his wand. Quirrell’s hand trembled as he reached for his turban. He slowly began to unravel it, Harry watching in strange terror as he and Tom left their chair and slowly back towards the wall, getting out of the way of the two wizards. Quirrell’s fingers stopped for a moment when his turban was undone, and turned around before lifting the final piece of cloth off, revealing the white paled nose-less face of Lord Voldemort.

“Dumbledore… we meet again,” Voldemort said.

“You should never have come here Tom,” Dumbledore warned.

Voldemort gave a cruel laugh, “See what I must do to survive, old fool. Even in this weaken state…I still am able to infiltrate your school.”

“You will never escape from here Tom,” Dumbledore said, his wand now out and aimed at Voldemort. “You will never get the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“The Stone? The Stone is already mine, Dumbledore,” Voldemort laughed. “All I need is to kill you… and I will be free to get it.”

Quirrell quivered and Tom and Harry glanced at each other. Harry whispered nervously, “What should we do?”

“I don’t know… just watch and try to run?” Tom whispered.

Harry nodded, but still looked nervously horrified. There was a dangerous tension between Dumbledore and Voldemort. It filled the room and pressed on Harry, he felt like he couldn’t move, all his limbs paralyzed. His neck hurt, his fingers were stone, and his feet felt as if they were chained to the floor. He wanted to move, at least reach for his wand, but couldn’t.

“What were you planning to do, Dumbledore?” Voldemort chuckled. “Prolong me until someone comes to save you?”

“The Aurors are already on their way to arrest Professor Quirrell for sexual assault and pedophilia,” Dumbledore stated. Quirrell gave a loud gasp of terror and began to shake violent in fear. “You will be spending the rest of your life in Azkaban.”

“Or… I may simply leave him and find another host… the boy perhaps,” Voldemort said darkly, his eyes going to Tom.

“Like hell you won’t!” Tom yelled.

Voldemort laughed at Tom’s outraged. “We will see, little one,” he said.

“Master—Master no, please don’t leave me! Master—Ahh!” Quirrell began to scream in pain. His head began to burn, blisters emerging and popping everywhere as the back of his head expanded. Voldemort’s face began pulling from the back of the head, which acted and looked like hot wax as tendrils pulled from both Voldemort and Quirrell. Red muscles and scarred skin remained where the tendrils snapped, Quirrell’s howls of pain becoming louder and louder. Voldemort showed no emotion as Quirrell sank to his knees, his head becoming completely disfigured, more like a crater pooling with scared tissues and blood than a human body part.

Harry finally regained control of his body only to scream at the grotesque sight before him, the back of Quirrell’s head caving in, long pieces of skin hanging off like thread. He felt violently sick and, despite trying to keep himself together, threw up. Tom stared at the body and Voldemort with interest. He felt no sickness as he stared at the limp body of Quirrell, however his eyes turned to Voldemort. He looked ghost-like, a sandy brown color and only a face, as if made up by scattered dust. The thing lunged towards Tom, but Dumbledore moved face, a spell hitting Voldemort and the face evaporating, scattering around. The two stayed still, Harry was still throwing up at the sight of Quirrell when a disgusting smell began to emit from the head.

It was a mixture of Harry’s vomit and a putrid, hot rotting smell. Tom’s noise automatically wrinkled up as his hand went to cover it. The scattered dust moved and slowly began to reform. They circled around Tom and he felt something invade him through his nostrils and ears. “Ah!!” The dust forced itself down Tom’s throat and his mind felt strange. Information he shouldn’t know slowly came to him, memories that weren’t his and power—power that he hasn’t attained yet began to slowly fill his mind, his own consciousness fighting against the slowly rising dust.

“Foolish boy!” Voldemort’s voice sneered. “I told you never to fight against me.”

Tom struggled, he couldn’t breathe, it was as if the dust was squeezing against his lungs. His hand shook, moving as if going against a strong tide, towards his wand. “Why do you resist? We are the same, you are mine!”

“I’m… not…yours,” Tom choked. His fingers curled around the base of his wand and slowly angled towards the ball of dust that floated about him, Voldemort’s victorious face taunting him. He searched his mind for anything, anything at all, that would help him.

His consciousness continued to drown, his mind flooding with Voldemort’s memories and experiences. His knowledge overwhelming Tom’s, his power choking the boy. Then, at last, Tom remembered, or learned, Voldemort’s favorite spell. His grip tightened around his wand, his eyes slanted in an angry glare. _This is my body! You had your turn and failed,_ he thought angrily before screaming against the flooding dust.

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

There was a burst of green light and Tom felt the dust leaving him, retreating quickly as the Killing Curse hit the specter of Voldemort. The memories, experiences, and consciousness of Voldemort left Tom’s body. He could feel the power draining away and did his best to hold onto it, to keep the power that Lord Voldemort has built up.

The dust squeezing his lungs flew out of his mouth and he fell to the ground, coughing violently. In front of him were grey, unmoving dust, the silhouette of Voldemort’s face marked out among the mass. Smelling of burnt fabric, the office became a disgusting pool of odious smells. Dumbledore, shocked at what happened before him, moved to open his windows with a flick of his wand, the cold winter air bursting in and pushing out the smell.

“Harry—Harry,” Tom coughed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry frowned, wiping the spittle of vomit from his lips and chin. “Sorry…how are you feeling?”

“I’m me,” Tom said. “He tried to take over, I could feel myself drowning. His memories, knowledge, everything overwhelming mine. There was so much hatred Harry. Then, without thinking, I used a spell that I never learned before. I don’t know what it was or what it did but… I think it worked. And as soon as I cast the spell, he was gone—every part of him. I can’t remember anything he did.”

Dumbledore stared at Tom. “Who visited you in the orphanage with your Hogwarts letter?” he asked suddenly.

“Professor McGonagall,” Tom answered.

“When was the first time you seen my face?”

“On Harry’s Famous Witch or Wizards Card on the train,” Tom said.

“Who was the Headmaster before me?” Dumbledore asked lightly.

Tom’s brow furrowed as he thought for a moment before saying, “I don’t know.”

Dumbledore fell into his chair, looking relieved. “Then it seems, that all traces of Lord Voldemort are gone. Tom Riddle, you are your own person, Voldemort cannot overshadow you any longer.”

“I always knew that sir,” Tom said. “But…” he looked at Quirrell’s disgusting body. “What about Quirrell? He still assaulted my friend.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said at once. He got off his chair and moved towards the limp body by the doorway. He knelt down in front of it and Harry clenched Tom’s shirt tightly.

“Help me to the window, I feel sick again,” He said quickly.

The two moved towards the window and Harry leaned against it, taking deep breaths of the winter air. Tom turned his back to Harry to look at Dumbledore. “How is he?”

“He is alive, but barely,” Dumbledore said, muttering some spells to himself. “He might live, if the Aurors arrive quickly.”

“What was the spell I used against Voldemort?” Tom asked.

“Ah yes, that,” Dumbledore frowned. “The Killing Curse. It is an Unforgivable Curse, the use of which earns a wizard an instant sentence to Azkaban. However, you have no memory of how to perform the Curse, I will assume.”

“No,” Tom said, shaking his head. “I can barely turn a toothpick into a sewing needle.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Then I see no reason why you should face any consequences,” he said.

“Thank you, sir,” Tom said. He frowned in thought, “Who’s going to teach Defense now?”

“Well, it seems a little late to find a new staff member, so I will take control temporarily, until the year is done, and I can start looking again,” Dumbledore said.

Tom nodded then looked at Harry then back at the body. “Are we… are we still needed here?”

Dumbledore thought then shook his head. “Then, can I take Harry?” Tom asked, “get him some fresh air?”

“Of course,” Dumbledore said. He waved his wand and Harry’s vomit disappeared.

Tom wrapped an arm around Harry and helped him away from the window. Harry kept his sight away from Quirrell as the two made their way to the door. Tom held it open for them, and they made their way slowly down the spiraling staircase and away from the headmaster’s office.

When they reached the marble staircase, Tom and Harry turned to each other. They were smiling.

“We did it, my little snake,” Tom said. “You were such a good boy!”

“They’re both gone!” Harry smiled. “Quirrell and Voldemort.”

“And it wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for you and your lovely hole,” Tom snickered. “You were lovely, Harry, lovely. However,” He leaned in close and kissed Harry’s cheek. “Next time, you will not stretch yourself unless I am watching. Understand?”

“Yes, my Dom,” Harry laughed.

“Good, now come on, Harry,” Tom said, taking Harry’s hand. “Our first step is done.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, turning his head to the side.

“You said so yourself, my little snake,” Tom said. “We can be better Dark Wizards than that stupid Dark Lord. I mean, he fell for a deception made by two eleven-year-olds, they all did,” Tom laughed.

“Yeah, they did,” Harry smiled. “So, you really want to do it?”

“I like to think that we’ve already begun,” Tom smirked.

“Alright then,” Harry smiled. They stopped at the entrance hall. “You and me, we’ll show the world what we can do.”

“Together.”

 END of Part 1


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

“Harry, we need to talk.”

It has been four years since Harry and Tom got rid of Quirrell and Voldemort. They were still in the orphanage, but everything was different for the boys. In their second year, someone claiming to be the “Heir of Slytherin” was petrifying Muggleborns. Through shear dumb luck, the couple got their hands on a diary that used to be Voldemort’s and, after some choice words from Tom, the diary gave away all, explaining how it was using the youngest Weasley to awaken a great Basilisk inside the castle. Both horrified and impressed, Tom and Harry both decided that it would be best if they keep the diary, and they continued to have it to this day. Third year was a hopeful year for them. They bullied their matron to sign their permission slips to go to Hogsmeade, and they somehow found Harry’s godfather! They were both happy, dreaming of living outside the orphanage, only to have it dashed by dementors and a small rat of a man named Pettigrew.

But that changed just a year later at a terrible price. It was as if fate was happily torturing the couple: Harry was forced into a deadly game that, in the end, took the life of a new friend of his named Cedric Diggory. It turned out that the rat Pettigrew and another follower of Voldemort wanted to resurrect their old master. Harry was able to stop the ritual, catching Pettigrew, but he wasn’t quick enough to save Cedric, who died in front of his eyes.

Now they were in the orphanage, waiting for word from Harry’s godfather as he gave Pettigrew to Dumbledore as soon as he could.

Harry looked up from his bed to Tom. With each passing year it seems that Tom only grew more and more handsome. He was tall, lean, with pale skin and dark eyes that demanded full attention. Harry couldn’t count the number of times he lost himself just staring into Tom’s eyes, they were like an abyss just quietly whispering to Harry to submit.

“What is it, Tom?” Harry asked.

“I want to officiate our relationship,” Tom said. “I think it’s time… especially considering how you keep fucking yourself with your fingers every night—don’t look bashful, my little snake, I told you that I would be watching.”

“And that’s why I do it,” Harry said.

“Good Boy… but we still need to talk,” Tom said. He patted the space next to his bed and Harry sat down next to him. Tom was taller than Harry by a head, so Harry could easily just rest against him. “I hope you know by now that our relationship… isn’t like the others’.”

“Because we’re gay?”

“That, yes, and because we’re both into… things that any other people would wince at,” Tom said. “I want to be your Dom, Harry, and I want you to be my sub.”

“Aren’t we like that already?” Harry asked.

“We are, little snake, but I want to make it official,” Tom said.

“Okay,” Harry said. He moved so he was laying on Tom’s lap. Tom’s hand automatically moved to slowly stroke his hair. “So… where to start?” he asked.

“Well… I think we should at least understand our roles,” Tom said. “As Dom and sub.”

“I read your books, and we’re keeping that stuff in the bedroom,” Harry said flatly. Tom smiled and chuckled as he continued to comb Harry’s hair with his fingers.

“Fair enough, Harry,” he said. “I am the Dom, when we play around, I command you obey.”

“And I am the sub,” Harry said. “I hold the true power because I set the limits.”

Tom nodded, “Exactly, Good Boy. Now… I’m willing to do everything under the sun, just to try it, how about you?”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, frowning in confusion.

“Well, you know, kinks and stuff,” Tom said. “Like how you stick your entire fist inside your ass. There are many different ways people get aroused and show their arousal Harry. Let’s see… there’s Dom/sub, which we already practice, fisting, which you do an excellent job of, little snake, let’s see…” He looked away from his sub to the erotic books that surrounded Tom’s bed. “Oh! This one is about pup play,” he said.

“Pup play?”

“Basically we act and behave like you’re my pet and I’m your owner,” Tom said.

“Oh, sounds interesting,” Harry smiled.

“It does,” Tom nodded. “There’s also stuff like Daddy play where, again, I’m your Daddy and you’re the boy.”

“So I would call you Daddy Tom?” Harry laughed.

“Hey, don’t laugh at it, boy,” Tom snickered.

“You’re laughing!” Harry said, pointing an accusing finger at Tom.

“No I’m not boy, and if you continue like this, I’m going to have to punish you,” Tom said in a commanding tone.

“Oh? And what is Daddy going to do—woah!” With surprising strength, Tom hooked his arms under Harry’s legs and lifted them into the air, revealing his clothed butt. Holding his legs with one arm, he placed his free hand on Harry’s butt before smirking, “Why give you a spanking of course,” before whacking Harry’s butt with a powerful, loud spank.

“Ow!”

“That is another kink people have… physical punishment usually in the form of spanking,” Tom smirked. “For the naughty boys.”

“Since when were you so strong? Ow… it stings,” Harry whined.

“It’s supposed to hurt, Harry, it’s punishment,” Tom said. He gently let Harry’s legs fall to the bed and returned his hand to combing through Harry’s hair. Harry gave a low whine, but closed his eyes. “Let’s see… what else is there,” Tom mused.

“How about… I give you consent, Tom, to do whatever you want to my body?” Harry asked, his eyes still closed. “You know that you already own me in a certain way, you know that I love you, right?”

“Of course, little snake, and I love you,” Tom said easily. Harry gave a content hum as he shifted on Tom’s lap. Tom chuckled and said, “Sleepy?”

“You just make me really relaxed,” Harry said. “Think I’ll just rest my eyes for a few minutes…”

“Then at least take your glasses off before you do so,” Tom chuckled.

“Can’t. Too tired, you do it.”

“Harry,” Tom said warningly.

“What? It’s the job of the Dom to take care of his sub,” Harry said, sticking a tongue out cheekily. Tom sighed and gently slipped Harry’s glasses off before spanking him.

“It is also the Dom’s job to punish his sub for cheekiness,” Tom said.

“Too tired to complain… just comb my hair please,” Harry said.

“Of course, just moved so I can lean against the wall, one of us might as well work,” Tom complained and the two moved so Tom could lean against the wall as Harry rested in his lap. “Sleep little snake, I’ll take care of you.”

“You always do.”

Soon the room was full of Harry’s soft snoring. Tom checked to make sure his boyfriend was truly asleep before reaching under his pillow for the book that he was reading. It was a book on the Dark Arts that Harry got for him during their last visit to Diagon Alley. The sub slipped away into Knockturn Alley and brought it for him.

 

A couple of days after their officiating their relationship, Tom and Harry were surprised by Matron barging into their room. “Right, you two out,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, out, both of you, you don’t live here anymore,” Matron said.

“Don’t live here! Are you kidding me?” Tom demanded.

“No she is not,” a voice said. Matron moved out of the way for a man in his mid-thirties with shaggy hair and a gaunt face. “Hello boys,” he said.

“Sirius!” Harry gasped. “What are you doing here?”

“He’s here to adopt you, not get packing,” Matron said. “I need the room for extra laundry, you have half an hour.” She gave them a disgusted look and walked away muttering about poofs.

Sirius just smiled and looked between the two of them, “What a horrible woman,” he said. He rubbed his hands enthusiastically and said, “Well boys, let’s get packing.”

“Sirius, what’s going on? I don’t understand,” Harry said.

“Well, where to start,” Sirius said as he looked around the room and pulled out Harry’s and Tom’s trunks. “Dumbledore thought that it would be dangerous, Harry, for you to stay here, since we are certain that You-Know-Who is not gone for good. What you told us what happened at the graveyard is proof of that. You-Know-Who is still out there somewhere, and he will come back. I’m guessing you haven’t been reading _the Prophet_ , have you?”

“Matron hates owls coming here with letters, she even threatened to cook Hedwig, so we canceled out subscription,” Tom said.

Sirius frowned and looked at the caged snowy-white owl who was currently sleeping. “That’s too bad,” he said. “Well, all the better reason for you two to leave. Now where was I—ah yes! The Ministry is not very happy with Dumbledore right now, they refuse to think of the possibility that Voldemort might come back. They even started a smear campaign against him and you Harry.”

“Me? Why me?” Harry asked.

“I’m guessing, love, it is because of the fact that you refuse to have a normal year,” Tom said as he began to gather his books, making sure that Sirius cannot see the titles. Sirius stopped and looked between the two of them. “’Love?’” he repeated.

“Yes, we’re dating,” Tom said.

“Okay,” Sirius shrugged. “Then I’ll just make sure you get separate rooms. Now, the Ministry is trying to paint the two of you to look like maniacs, but I wouldn’t worry about that for now. You two will be far too busy during the rest of the summer. Headquarters is much too filthy to be remotely livable.”

“Headquarters?” Harry asked.

“Why for the Order of the Phoenix, of course,” Sirius said. “My mother recently passed away, thank god, and with no other heir, my family home came under my possession. I don’t want it so I offered it to Dumbledore to use for headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore wants both of you there to keep you safe. He was actually very keen, strangely enough, about you Tom.”

“Interesting,” Tom muttered.

“Yes, anyway I thought that the best thing to do was to adopt you both, keep you away from this orphanage for good,” Sirius said.

Both Harry and Tom stopped what they were doing. The realization that they were gone for good from their orphanage hit them as the looked at Sirius. “Thank you,” Harry whispered.

“You’re welcome Harry, now I believe we should finish packing. Ahh,” He turned and opened Hedwig’s cage. He pulled out a small piece of parchment from his pocket and searching aimlessly for a quill before Harry just handed him a pencil. “Thank you. Just telling Dumbledore that I got you two.” He said as he wrote the note. He rolled it up and tied it around Hedwig, who woke up with an annoyed hoot. She flew away, and the three quickly packed all of Harry’s and Tom’s belongings in their trunks.

Harry looked around. It was weird seeing the room so empty. He and Tom lived in this room for most of their lives, and now… they were leaving, going away with Sirius to someplace different, someplace magical, someplace where they don’t have to mostly hide who they were. Sirius looked around the empty room and said, “Right, do we have everything? Then let’s go.”

He took Harry’s trunk and Hedwig’s cage while the boys carried Tom’s trunk out of their room for the last time.

Nobody said goodbye to them, and they did not say goodbye to anyone as they got onto the busy streets of London. “Right! Let’s get on our way,” Sirius said. “We have a bit a way to go.”

“Where are we going anyway?” Tom asked.

“Islington,” Sirius said, and he began walking. Thankful that their trunks had wheels, Tom and Harry followed Sirius. They took an odd route to wherever they were going. Sirius kept turning into what Harry would have sworn would be normally dead ends, but they seemed to actually have another opening that led to a different place in London. Five minutes in, Harry felt he was completely lost, and they continued walking for another half hour until, at last, they stop in front of a row of houses. Sirius pulled out a piece of parchment and gave it to both Tom and Harry. “Memorize the address,” he said.

Harry and Tom looked down at the parchment and read:

_12 Grimmauld Place_

They looked up at the row of apartment housing. One had number eleven, and the other had thirteen. Harry was confused for a moment until, he saw in disbelief as the two buildings started to move apart, another building sort of inflating to take up the space between them. It grew and grew until it was the same size as the others, it’s plaque reading _12 Grimmauld Place._

“Come on, come on,” Sirius said, already pulling Hedwig’s cage and Harry’s trunk up the stairs. Harry and Tom followed Sirius up the stairs towards the door. Sirius took out his wand and tapped the door numerous times, muttering to himself, before it opened without a noise. The three walked in and the door closed by itself. Harry looked around.

It was dark, the walls had a musty smell to them, dust hanged thickly in the air and the floor felt completely uncomfortable underneath his feet. There was an umbrella stand made of a troll’s foot next to them, and hanging all over the walls were portraits of people sleeping, mostly covered by curtains. The biggest portrait covered by a drape.

“Now, we have to be very quiet here,” Sirius whispered.

“Why do you have to be—”

Harry’s question was answered instantly as the large heavy drape covering the largest portrait slid open by itself revealing an old woman in a black cap who was screaming as though she was being tortured. It was the most realistic—and the most unpleasant life size portrait he has seen in his life.

“FILTH! SCUM! BY-PRODUCTS OF DIRT AND VILENESS! HAFT-BREEDS, MUTANTS, FREAKS, BEGON FROM THIS PLACE! HOW DARE YOU BEFOUL THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS—”

Her screaming woke the whole house up as the next thing Harry knew, all the portraits were screaming. Sirius dropped Harry’s trunk and cage and ran to pull back the moth-eaten velvet curtain just as another, somewhat familiar, voice screamed, “I HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR MOANING!” And the plump figure of Mrs. Weasley came running into the foyer to help Sirius pull close the curtain that did not seem to want to budge. Tom and Harry stood in shock as the two adults struggled to close the curtain, but the moment they did so the screaming stopped.

Giving a tired sigh, Sirius turned and smiled apologetically to Harry and Tom, “I’m sorry that you had to meet my mother,” he said.

Mrs. Weasley turned around to see Harry and Tom. “Boys you’re here,” She said happily as she rushed towards them to squeeze them into a hug. Harry had to stifle a laugh as he looked at Tom’s uncomfortable face. They have somehow… Harry has somehow kept their budding friendship with Ron going, which led to the Weasley inviting them over during the summer once he learned that they both lived in an orphanage. “Ron and the others are here too, they’re upstairs helping me clean up the place—oh but you two must be hungry now, leave those trunks, we’ll bring them up later to your room.”

“Separate rooms, please,” Sirius said. “They are dating, Molly, and I don’t want them up late.”

“O-Ohh… yes that will be difficult,” Mrs. Weasley frowned. “But we’ll figure it out, come on you two.”

Tom leaned towards Harry as they walked. “Free at last,” he smiled.

“Free at last,” Harry nodded.

“I’m sure we can learn a lot here,” Tom said. “In fact, once we’re alone, love, there’s another talk I want to have with you.”

“Tom, I told you already, you can do whatever you want with my body,” Harry said, giving Tom a flirty look. Tom rolled his eyes and said, “Not about that, little snake.” He glanced towards Sirius and Mrs. Malfoy then hissed softly, _“Dark Magic.”_

 _“Ohh…okay,”_ Harry nodded.

The two did not get a change to be alone for some time. Mrs. Weasley insisted on feeding them three servings of late breakfast, and Sirius was following them around like an overly protective parent, even after the two agreed that Harry would sleep with Ron while Tom rooms with the twins. They brought their trunks into their rooms, and Tom offered to help Harry unpack. “We’ll leave the door open,” Tom promised.

“Fine… but if you two start kissing heavily—”

“All we do is just kiss Sirius, don’t worry,” Harry said sweetly. Sirius stared at Harry’s innocent expression for a moment before allowing them to be alone.

Tom waited until they were certain that Sirius was gone before hissing to Harry, _“Don’t speak English, just in case.”_

 _“Okay, so what do you want to talk about with Dark Magic?”_ Harry asked.

 _“Besides the fact that this might offer us an earlier change to continue practicing it? I am thinking that we should talk about what that other me has done,”_ Tom said.

_“You mean Voldemort?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“What about him?”_

_“He’s dead… right? We’ve seen him… or at least those dust things die in our first year. I’ve used the Killing Curse. Yet people like Crouch Jr. and Pettigrew tried to bring him back,”_ Tom said.

 _“I know—they even had something in that giant stone cauldron before I destroyed it. It looked weird, like a cup or something,”_ Harry said.

 _“Maybe… maybe it is possible for Voldemort to split himself again, just as he and I split fifty or sixty years ago,”_ Tom said. _“And those split parts became different versions of the Dark Lord, like the diary, or this cup thing.”_

 _“So you’re thinking that maybe they’re right? Dumbledore and the others? That he’s still out there?”_ Harry asked.

 _“Maybe, but, my little snake, my sweet submissive, I believe that he, Voldemort, has passed his time. Perhaps… someone else should take up the mantle of Dark Lord. Someone younger, smarter, someone with a wickedly devilish Potter on their side,”_ Tom smirked. He opened Harry’s trunk and fished around a little until he pulled out a small black-leather diary.

 _“Wherever you go, you know I’ll follow, Tom,”_ Harry said.

 _“So, we’re at an agreement?”_ Tom asked. Harry smiled and took the diary from Tom’s hand, throwing it haphazardly onto the bed.

“Yes…Daddy,” he smirked. Tom snickered and pulled Harry into a kiss, both boys falling onto Harry’s new bed, rolling over the old, yellow-paged diary.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Tom overheard one day in Grimmauld Place how it was that Lord Voldemort summoned his followers. Apparently, he had each and every one of his followers marked, and, according to Snape whom he overheard, Voldemort would simply press his wand against the Mark, signaling all other followers to come to him.

“We need to figure out a way to get one of these members,” Tom said to Harry. They were in Tom’s room, the door shut and locked. Harry was laying on the bed, a Dark Tome opened in front of him as Tom paced the room. “We need to somehow figure out… who do we know that is a follower to Voldemort?” Tom asked as he turned to Harry.

“Pettigrew, Mr. Malfoy, most of the adults of the Slytherin kids,” Harry listed. “Maybe we can ask Draco?”

“Maybe…” Tom nodded softly. “But would Sirius—no, no Sirius, would Dumbledore allow us out of his sight?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Harry asked. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“No, but the other Tom did,” Tom said. He stopped and stared at Harry. “I believe that Dumbledore will never trust me,” he said. “Not that he should, I mean just look at what we’re planning, but still… he could be a bit more trustworthy.”

“You’re right, he could,” Harry nodded. “The old fool…” He placed the tome of Dark Arts down and looked at his boyfriend. Smiling softly, he said, “How do you feel like eating?”

“Harry we just ate lunch,” Tom said.

“I’m talking about tonight,” Harry said. “I’m sure there’s a restaurant we can go to. Somewhere close by that Dumbledore or Sirius could easily find us… maybe somewhere with fish, I feel like eating fish tonight…”

Tom stared at Harry for a moment. His lips curled upwards, revealing his white teeth before he started to laugh. “Harry, Harry, my beautiful snake why haven’t I thought of that?” he cheered.

“I don’t know Daddy, it just seems like a thought process you wouldn’t start,” Harry said, sticking out his tongue cheekily.

“Cheeky snake,” Tom said as Harry rolled off the bed.

“Stay here, I’ll ask Sirius,” Harry said. Tom agreed, and he picked up Harry’s book to see what he was reading about. “You evil little boy,” he chuckled, staring at the graphic pictures of people being tortured.

Harry returned five minutes later smiling victoriously. “I did it,” he said, “I asked Sirius if you and I could go out for dinner, and he agreed. Even better Dumbledore was there, and he tried to talk about our safety, but Sirius overruled him.”

“Interesting,” Tom said. “So where are we going, my little snake?” he asked as he placed the book down, showing openly what Harry was reading.

Harry looked at the book and blushed a little. “There’s this small place down the block, it’s new called Tres Bien. ” he said. “We could get Hedwig to send a letter to Draco immediately, asking him and his father to meet us there. He’s a Good Boy, so you know he’ll do it.”

“And once they come?”

“We have Mr. Malfoy Apparate us to his home where we will summon the other followers and have our fun with them,” Harry smiled. Tom walked towards Harry and locked lips with him, pushing the smaller boy against the nearest wall.

“That is an excellent plan, I must say,” Tom said before he continued kissing Harry.

“Tom,” Harry whined, “come on, we have to get ready.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to stop kissing you,” Tom smirked as he moved down to Harry’s neck, biting and sucking at one particular spot that made the small boy moan.

“It does, if you want to be prepared,” Harry moaned as Tom continued to bite and nip his neck. “We have to—ah—we have to think of what we’re going to do.”

Tom stepped away, smirking at his little snake. “You’re right,” he said, “we have a lot to prepare, but, Harry, that does not mean we cannot have our fun.”

“Yeah but I want to make sure that we’re completely prepared,” Harry said. “These are Voldemort’s followers, we don’t know if they’ll accept you…”

“They will accept me, Harry, of that I have no doubt,” Tom said. He saw the concerned look on Harry’s face and sighed. “But to keep you at ease, we will make sure we are more than prepared.”

Tom walked towards a nearby window and opened it fully. He allowed the heated air and sunshine to slowly come in on gentle breezes as he turned to Hedwig’s cage where the owl was sleeping peacefully. “Hedwig, Hedwig,” Tom said softly, pushing a finger through the cage’s bars and stroking the owl. “Wake up girl, we got treats and a job…”

Hedwig gave an annoyed hoot as she woke up but Tom opened her cage and filled a small basket inside of it with treats. “Eat up, we need you to fly faster than you ever had before,” Tom said. He moved away and pulled out a piece of parchment and a bottle of ink and a quill from his trunk and sat at his desk, where he began to write.

_Draco,_

_It is very important that you and your father meet us at Tres Bien, a new restaurant that Harry and I will be at later this evening at seven thirty. You must bring your father, that is absolutely imperative. I will not explain why, but you will understand shortly._

_I know we can count on you Draco,_

_Tom Marvolo Riddle_

“There,” Tom said. He rolled the parchment up and tied it around Hedwig’s leg. “I need this to get to Draco immediately,” he said. Hedwig spread her wings and flew immediately out of her cage, and out of the window. Tom and Harry watched her for a moment before turning to each other. “What should we do now?” Harry asked.

“Now we plan on what to do when we see our new followers,” Tom said. He examined Harry for a moment. He lifted his hand and gently moved Harry’s hair away, revealing his scar. “First,” he whispered, “we must decided… should we hide who you are, or embrace it?”

“Who I am… what do you mean?” Harry frowned.

“There are a lot of people who would want to kill you Harry,” Tom chuckled. “And these people will be our followers…”

“Why should I hide from them?” Harry asked sweetly, smiling at Tom. “After all… I have the Dark Lord’s support. If they have a problem with it, then we will strike them down.”

Tom stared at Harry before chuckling darkly, “My… remind me never to make you angry, Harry,” he said. “But alright, we shall not even bother hiding you… however that gives us one problem.”

“What?”

“Snape,” Tom said. “He’s one of Voldemort’s followers, and will recognize us right away.”

“Then we will keep him in the dark,” Harry said. “We will simply cut him loose.”

“But he can prove his usefulness, dear snake,” Tom said. “He is close to Dumbledore, he provides a direct channel for us knowing Dumbledore’s and the Order of the Phoenix’s plans.”

“I don’t know,” Harry frowned. “He might turn against us.”

“I guess that is true,” Tom nodded. “However, it would be curious for him not to show or be summoned when we summon the rest of the followers.”

“Then how will we do this?” Harry asked. “We can’t have Snape figuring out who we are… yet it would be suspicious for Snape to be excluded.”

“Hmm… that is a difficult question,” Tom mused. Both boys moved to sit down on the bed as they thought. Not a sound could be heard in the room, if there was a sound, it came from the outside. Harry once faintly heard Ron and Hermione walking by their room, complaining about a pixie infestation somewhere.

“What if…” Harry said slowly after some time has passed, “we send a letter to Snape. Using one of the followers’ owls, asking to meet him in private… we make sure that he can’t see us, but us him… we can use the Cloak.”

“That’s an idea,” Tom said. “We can be completely invisible and question Snape to our heart’s content while he’s forced to bow before us.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Harry nodded. Tom rolled to kiss Harry lightly before the two of them stood up.

“So, allow me to repeat our plan, just so we both can be on the same page, my love,” Tom said. “We have just sent a letter to Draco for him to appear at a nearby restaurant with his father. Once the two of them show, the four of us, after persuading Mr. Malfoy, will Apparate to his home where we shall organize a room in his home for our little meeting. We will use Mr. Malfoy’s mark and summon the rest of Voldemort’s followers, at least the followers who are still free, except for Snape, I’m sure that it will be easy to have the call miss him… and if not, then we shall prepare immediately with your cloak.”

“It’s in my room,” Harry said, “I can put it in my bag. I can claim that I’m carrying it for looks.”

“Yes, yes that would work,” Tom nodded. “With the Cloak, we can make sure to hide under it before any of the Death Eaters appear. Then, if Snape is there, we can keep hidden. If not, we shall reveal ourselves.”

“Sounds good,” Harry nodded. “But once we reveal ourselves, I think we have to make sure that they don’t talk about you and me to anyone else. I mean… Voldemort used fear to keep them under control. We’re just two fifteen-year-olds. We have to find a way to control them.”

Tom looked at the open book and smirked, “Why not just show them our power? Tell them the truth about the other Tom… how he died four years ago.”

“Then what?” Harry asked. “After we tell them how you killed the other Voldemort when we were eleven… how are we supposed to have them follow us? Should we torture one of them? Kill one of them… I don’t think I’m ready to kill, Tom.”

“And I would never have you kill Harry,” Tom said. “But, you do not have to worry about that my little snake, I will handle everything.”

“Fine… but if I need to say something, I will,” Harry said.

“Of course you will,” Tom said. “I do not want you to be just a silent object. Just, if you have a plan, inform me so that I may help.”

“I thought that would be obvious after first year… Daddy,” Harry teased.

Tom chuckled and shook his head. “You know how to change a mood, Harry,” he said.

Harry just smiled and slipped further away from Tom. “I’m going to get my bag and cloak,” he said, “as well as changing my clothes.”

“Why would you change?” Tom frowned.

“Well we _are_ going on a date after all,” Harry said, “I might as well wear something special.”

“True, I never thought of it like that,” Tom said.

“Good, well I’ll be back then and we can go,” Harry said. He kissed Tom’s cheek and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Tom idled for a while, closing Harry’s book and hiding it away in case the Weasleys or a member of the Order comes in.

Harry did not come back until half an hour later. He was wearing a form-fitting dark emerald button-down shirt with black slacks along with a silver tie that hung loosely around his neck. His messenger bag was in his hand, filled with the Invisibility Cloak. “How do I look?” Harry asked.

“Absolute perfection,” Tom said.

“Great, I hoped you would like this,” Harry smiled. He checked the time on his watch and frowned. “It’s already six,” he said. “Has Hedwig come back yet?”

“No, not yet,” Tom said.

“Okay,” Harry nodded. He found his book and the two sat down to read until, forty minutes later, Hedwig flew back with a short note in her beak.

“It says, ‘We’ll be there,’” Tom said.

“Excellent,” Harry smiled, “Then let’s go, I’m getting hungry.” They returned their books and Tom took Harry’s hand as they walked down to the main floor, looking for Sirius.

Sirius was with the Weasleys and Hermione down in the basement kitchen, looking as though they were about to sit down for dinner. “Sirius, we’re going now,” Harry said.

“Oh look at you two!” Mrs. Weasley said standing up. “You both look so handsome.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry smiled. He looked at Sirius and said, “I promise we’ll won’t be out late.”

“Alright boys, just be home before ten and I’ll be fine,” Sirius said.

Both waved goodbye, and Tom led the way, Harry’s hand in his, as they walked passed the covered portraits of past members of the Blacks and outside number 12 Grimmauld Place.

It looked to be a cloudless night as the two walked down the street, both boys just silently enjoying the fresh air that has been denied to them due to necessity (Dumbledore did not want any of them to leave the house just in case Death Eaters were near). They walked hand-in-hand in a comfortable silence, Harry adjusting his bag every now and again as Tom’s eyes darted around, in case Dumbledore, or worse Sirius, had someone follow them. Harry noticed his constant looking and said, “Will you calm down? Nobody is following us! We’re just going to a tacky restaurant for a date, that’s it.”

“Yes, but I cannot trust Dumbledore to not send someone to watch us,” Tom hissed. “I won’t feel safe until we’re both at Malfoy Manor.”

Harry gave an annoyed sigh, “Fine but you’re paying,” he said. They turned the corner and continued walking.

Tres Bien looked as new and tacky as Harry figured it be. It seemed to Harry that the owner was either a middle-aged woman, or just really loved various shades of pink. The awnings were pink and white, the tables outside were a dark-pink with metal pink chairs, and even the windows seemed to be tinted pink. “Are you sure this is a Muggle shop?” Tom whispered as they got nearer to the hideously pink store.

“I think so… I hope so, it would be bad if somebody recognizes me here,” Harry whispered. Tom nodded in agreement and the two made their way inside. It was just as tacky and hideously pink as it was outside. Each booth had a mirrored partition separating them all, so that the eaters would eat in privacy while staring at their reflection. Harry and Tom looked to be one of the one few there, as they sat down at a booth in the back, so they could see the front door through the mirrors.

Harry checked his watch and said, “It’s seven,” he said.

“Then we have half an hour,” Tom said. He turned his head around and said, “We might as well eat something while we wait.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. They signaled a waiter, and ten minutes later two salads were in front of the boys. They ate a little in silence. The food was subpar, and Harry was sure that the lettuce was somehow too oily to be fresh.

When they were both done, Harry and Tom looked at each other, “Never again?” Tom asked.

“Yeah, never again,” Harry nodded.

They were spared asking for more when the door to the restaurant opened up, and Tom saw Draco Malfoy through the mirror. Their Boy has changed throughout the years for the better, Tom thought. He was taller than Harry, but shorter than Tom, his platinum-blonde hair was a bit on the long-side, reaching his ears and back of his neck, long and straight, exactly like Lucius’s, though the man’s hair was extremely longer. As the two came closer Tom began to notice subtle things, such as how Draco’s lips seemed a little more pronounced, his body was small, perfect for a Seeker though he wasn’t on the Quidditch team, and though both Malfoys carried themselves with a high-air, there was a distinct difference between them: Draco knew his manners and knew how to act and behave while his father seemed to be all bark with no bite.

“Why have you sent us here, Potter?” were Mr. Malfoy’s first words when they reached Harry and Tom.

“Because I needed Sirius and the others to believe that we are on a date,” Harry said. “A date that has been ruined by truly terrible food.”

“However, our date is over, and now we have business to discuss,” Tom said. He smiled at Harry, “why don’t you go pay our bill while I talk with Mr. Malfoy?” he said. “Draco, you can go with Harry.”

“Alright,” Draco nodded. Harry smiled at his friend, “Come on, let’s go,” he said standing up. The two walked off, Tom hearing Harry asking how Draco’s summer was before he turned his entire attention to Mr. Malfoy.

“I hope you know who I am, Mr. Malfoy,” Tom said.

“An annoying child who believes he can boss a Malfoy around,” Mr. Malfoy said rudely.

Tom chuckled, “No, though I must say that Malfoys are particularly good at taking orders… though it saddens me that you forget so easily the face of your Lord.”

“My Lord?”

“Sit down, Lucius,” Tom said suddenly coldly.

“I will do no such thing,” Mr. Malfoy said. “I do not know why my son has insisted that we meet with you and Potter in this trashy restaurant, but I will not stick around to engage you in your immature buffoonery.”

Tom stood up suddenly, his eyes glaring at Mr. Malfoy. “You are not going anywhere Lucius, sit down,” Tom hissed. “You know who I am. You feel it.” His eyes shifted to Mr. Malfoy’s inner forearm. “You must have hoped that I have gone away, that it faded in time… but it is coming back now, isn’t it?”

“How do you…”

“Show it to me,” Tom commanded.

“I will not ruin my sleeve for your antics,” Mr. Malfoy said hotly.

“Father… you should show him it,” Draco’s voice said behind them. Both turned to see Harry and Draco standing side-by-side. “He is You-Know-Who.”

“Thank you Draco,” Tom smirked, he glanced over at Mr. Malfoy, “it is heartening to know that there is still one sensible Malfoy.”

Draco smiled softly at the compliment and mouthed, ‘Thank you, my Lord.’

“You are going to bring us to your home,” Harry smiled. “Tom, Draco, and I have some things to talk about while you prepare a room for a little reunion.”

Mr. Malfoy looked between the three teens. Tom smirked as he saw his assumption about the man was correct, he truly was like a toothless dog. Scowling bitterly, Mr. Malfoy led the three outside the tacky restaurant, into an empty alleyway, and apparated them all to Malfoy Manor.

“We shall need a room with little light,” Tom said, “Give the cowards some confidence if they are too afraid to step in front of their Lord.”

The four entered Malfoy Manor and Harry looked around. The manor was old and had a sort of repressed feeling that he felt in Grimmauld Place. There were portraits of Malfoys past high on the walls, some portraits as big as a human adult while others towered even bigger still. The largest of them all looked to be a story-high with two ancient, grumpy looking Malfoys, eyeing down in discontent. Harry stood for a moment to stare at them. “Who are they?” he asked Draco.

“They’re all my ancestors,” Draco answered immediately. “That is Armand Malfoy, the man who found my family. He came from France and William the Conqueror gave him this land for Malfoy Manor.”

“It must be awful,” Harry said lightly, “having all these stuffy noses staring down at you.”

“You have no idea,” Draco sighed. “But Blaise makes it easier.”

“That’s right,” Harry smiled, “we have to tell Tom the good news.”

“What good news is this?” Tom asked, looking back at them.

“I will tell you later… my Lord,” Draco said.

“Fair enough,” Tom said. He turned and sneered, “What are you waiting for Malfoy, an invitation? Lead on!”

Mr. Malfoy led them to a dining hall in the back of the Manor. He summoned the house-elves, and in a few minutes the long table and chairs that filled the room was gone, instead two elegant armchairs took their place, resting in the center of the room. The room was still fully lit, however, by candles on the walls and a large chandelier. Tom ordered for the chandelier to be turned off, which Mr. Malfoy did, extinguishing all of its candles, and bringing much of the room into a shadowy darkness.

“This will do,” Tom said. “Now leave us, Harry and I must talk with the superior Malfoy.” And to show that he was unwanted for now, Tom turned his back to Mr. Malfoy. The adult sneered at Tom, but obeyed, grumbling in bitter anger that he allowed himself to be ordered around by teenagers. Tom snapped his fingers and the doors shut behind him.

“What is going on between you and Blaise?” Tom asked Draco.

“Well… he saw all the work you and Harry have done,” Draco began, “by turning me into the boy I am today.”

“A Good Boy,” Harry smiled.

“Yeah… a good boy,” Draco nodded. “Anyway, at the beginning of the summer Blaise and I were talking about it, and suddenly he just asked me to a date and we’ve been dating ever since.”

“That’s amazing Draco,” Harry smiled, “I’m happy for you two. Tom, isn’t that great?”

“Of course, it is,” Tom nodded, “just don’t forget who turned you into you, Draco.”

“Of course, not To—My Lord,” Draco said.

“When we are alone like this, you may call me by my name Draco,” Tom said. “You have more than earned that right.” He smiled at Draco and took Harry’s hand. “Strange as it is, I feel like a proud parent,” he said, looking at Harry. “Two Good Boys to show for my effort.” The two smaller wizards smiled bashfully.

“Anyway, my little snake, I believe we should begin,” Tom said. “Take the cloak out, I will join you as soon as I summon our followers.”

“Where do you want me, Tom?” Draco asked.

“You… you will be with us, of course, Draco Malfoy,” Tom said. “I would never send my most faithful servant away. But for now, go get your father.”

Draco nodded and walked after his father. It was just Harry and Tom left in the room. Tom made a quick walk around the room, checking to see that everything was in place. The room was dim, it was hard to see anything in front of them besides the two chairs that sat in the middle of the room. Harry went towards the smaller of the two and sat down. It was comfortable, the back supporting his body so he was sitting in an upright position. He crossed one leg over the other and felt a sense of arrogant superiority in the chair. “Is everything perfect, Tom?” he asked.

“Yes… yes this will do fine,” Tom nodded. He made his way to the chairs and snickered at Harry. “Comfortable my love?”

“Very much,” Harry said. He stood up just as the door opened, Draco leading his father inside. “It’s time,” Harry breathed. He stepped forward and kissed Tom on the lips. “For luck, remember?” he smiled.

Tom winked at Harry before turning to Mr. Malfoy, his expression changed drastically. His face was emotionless, but Harry could see clearly the dangerous threats that lied just beneath. “Your arm, Lucius,” Tom said, his left hand held open as his right fiddled with his wand.

Mr. Malfoy looked reluctant, but he rolled up his sleeve, revealing a black tattoo that looked a little faded. It was in the design of a skull, with a snake protruding from it’s open mouth, twisting around itself. Tom held Mr. Malfoy’s arm in a tight grip as he pressed his wand against the mark. Mr. Malfoy began to scream as the tattoo began to change, becoming blacker and also looking as if it was freshly burnt into his skin. Harry and Draco moved into the shadows as Tom continued to press his wand against the screaming Malfoy patriarch. Harry heard movement around them as several loud cracks echoed in the room, announcing the arrival of several wizards. They were all cloaked, looking around, their faces masked but Harry knew that they were obviously confused, as well as terrified.

Tom relieved the pressure and sank into the darkness. He retreated towards Harry and Draco and whispered as Harry pulled out the Cloak, “Draco, go sit in the chair. Announce that only I, the Dark Lord, am here. Do not reveal Harry yet. We shall do so only if Snape is not here.”

“Yes My Lord,” Draco nodded.

Tom looked and nodded to Harry. Harry threw the cloak over them, and the two were no more. Draco turned and with nervous, even steps he walked into the light, towards the two chairs, but he did not sit down. Tom and Harry followed him, invisible. “Announce me,” Tom hissed, his wand pressed against his throat, causing his voice to become audible from around the room. The men flinched as it sounded as though a thousand snakes were hissing at once.

“Our Lord… the Dark Lord,” Draco said, “He’s back… our Lord is back.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life got a bit too busy. That and Eureka in FFXIV is surprisingly addicting.

Chapter Thirteen

Silence. A Death Eater stepped forward. “What you talking about Malfoy? I don’t see our Lord,” he sneered.

“Who is that?” Tom whispered in Draco’s ear.

“You would learn to hold your tongue better, Yaxley,” Draco said, doing his best to keep his tone even.

“Yaxley…” Tom said, his wand pressed against his throat. “You do well to remember your place… coward.”

“If you are my Lord then were are you? I demand to—”

“Crucio!” Tom sneered from under the Invisibility Cloak. Yaxley fell crying in pain as the Curse took full effect. Harry couldn’t help but wince as Tom kept the curse going. When he relinquished the spell, he turned to Harry and whispered, “For now, refer to me as Voldemort. We’ll go behind my chair and I’ll step out of the cloak. You will stay in. Understand.”

Harry nodded and they moved to behind Voldemort’s chair. The Dark Lord slipped out of the Cloak and walked slowly around, getting the Death Eater’s attention. He did not even look at them as he sat down in his chair. “Crucio,” he sighed, and Yaxley’s screams began anew. Harry winced as the scream filled the room and walked slowly under the cloak to look at Draco and Voldemort.

Draco looked nervous, he kept glancing between Yaxley’s agonized form that kept spazzing against the ground, and Voldemort… he had a sort of glee in his eyes while his handsome face kept stoic. Harry could not help but stare into Voldemort’s eyes. They looked different. There was no warmth, no compassion, no humane emotions that even suggested that he was the good-hearted boy that he loved. Instead he found two cold, dark voids that stared out indifferently to the men in front of him. Two black holes that offered no empathy, no hope nor joy nor any sense of emotion equaling human compassion. These dark, terrible holes that seemed to delve deep into the darkest pits of Tom’s soul, seemed to demand attention and offers none in return, these two cold, calculating eyes that looked as though with every second they are plotting your demise were the eyes of Lord Voldemort as he stopped his Cruciatus Curse.

With a wave of his wand, the Death Eater began to rise into the air, invisible strings pulling upwards. His body was slacked, arms and legs dangling underneath him as his chest and head was pulled until he was five feet from the ground. There Voldemort left him as, with another wave, ten angry-looking snakes appeared in the room, all slithering towards Voldemort, their fangs dripping with what was clearly poison. _“Silence,”_ Voldemort commanded. With a snap, they turned into long swords. Finally Voldemort stood up, the swords following him, still moving as if they were snakes. His empty eyes did not advert from his prey as he let his hand fall, and one sword climbed onto him until its held was in his grasp. He placed it right underneath Yaxley’s back, the tip barely scraping against his robes.

“M-My Lord!” Yaxley struggled to say, but he was ignored as Voldemort continued placing the snake-turned-swords just underneath Yaxley’s body, all rigid in the air as if held by an invisible executioner. When all ten swords were situated, Voldemort took a step back and returned to his chair.

Sitting, he spoke for the first time directly to his followers. “Severus Snape… step forward,” he said.

Nobody moved. Voldemort just stared at them, looking sorely disappointed. “He isn’t here… how horrible,” he said. He flicked his wand and the room was filled with screams again as Yaxley fell onto the ten swords, all situated on his back. He did not fall far, only enough for the swords to bury themselves an inch into the Death Eater before he was yanked upwards again, his wounds healing instantly. “I hope that there is not any more disappointments,” Voldemort said, looking at his followers. “Though… just to make sure… Severus Snape, step forward.”

Again no one moved. Voldemort flicked his wand again and Yaxley fell. This time he stayed on the swords a second long before Voldemort lifted him again. “In that case…” Voldemort said slowly, “I believe it is time for an introduction. For fourteen years I was gone… fourteen years I was weakened briefly by that night. I have waited; however, I was patient. I knew that one of my loyal followers would find me, would bring me back to my formal power… yet none of you came. Instead… I was helped by an unexpected person. A boy more than a third your age yet shows twice your loyalty. Potter! Come out.”

Realizing that this was his cue, Harry dropped the Invisibility Cloak, revealing himself to the Death Eaters. He did his best to keep an emotionless face as his boyfriend, his Voldemort commanded him, “Kneel.”

Harry got on his knees before Voldemort. The Dark Lord could not help but chuckle coldly. “Dumbledore’s man, the last Potter… kneeling before the Dark Lord who killed his parents… how is it that a fifteen-year-old boy has shown more loyalty and faith in his Lord then the rest of you?”

Voldemort combed his fingers through Harry’s and pulled harshly, forcing Harry to stare into those dark voids that seemed to go on forever. He quickly found himself lost in them. “Do you swear allegiance, Potter, to the Dark Lord?” Voldemort asked, a knowing smirk playing his face.

“Y-Yes my Lord… I do,” Harry said.

“Do you swear to follow all orders, Potter?”

“I do S—my Lord,” Harry said.

“Stand up then, force Yaxley onto the swords,” Voldemort said.

Harry stood up and turned to face Yaxley. He felt uncomfortable, they did not plan any of this. Yet he did it all the same. He began to raise his wand, his hand trembling slightly. He made a cutting motion, mimicking what he has seen Voldemort done. Yaxley fell. But he did not scream. He seemed to have lost consciousness as he continued to slowly sink, blood and a strange yellow liquid mixed together as they seeped down the silver blades, pooling at the tip of the hilt before dripping onto the expensive wooden floor. Harry panicked. He did not know how to lift Yaxley up, or how to heal his wounds. The body kept sinking lower, any second now Harry knew he would see the swords pierce the man on the other side. He didn’t want that!

He quickly turned to Voldemort and pleaded for help silently. Voldemort gave an open scowl and waved his wand. Yaxley was yanked roughly from the swords, his wounds mostly healing as his body was flung to the ground before the Death Eaters. Unconscious, but very much alive. “Sweet Potter… still too innocent and kind,” Voldemort mused. “When he wakes up, inform Yaxley that he only lives because of Potter’s forgiveness.” He turned to Harry. _“Sit down,”_ he hissed, looking both disappointed and annoyed, as if he wanted to see Yaxley die on those swords. With another wave they turned back into snakes that slithered towards Harry and Tom, who were now sitting in their seats with Draco standing by their side.

“Now… tell me, what of my loyal followers? Those not afraid to pledge their allegiance and scurry away at the mere mention of my name?” Voldemort asked. “Where. Are. They?”

“Azkaban… my Lord,” a Death Eater replied.

“Azkaban…I see,” Voldemort said. “The Dementors will bow to us in time, they are naturally affiliated with the Dark Arts. They will join us in time, and our faithful followers will be with us again.”

There was a sense of guilt that wafted through the gathering of Death Eaters. Voldemort stared at each of them, along with Harry. Harry’s eyes kept falling onto Yaxley, however, who did not move from his spot. _He could have died… he almost died… and Tom didn’t stop it,_ he thought. He looked up at Draco to see the Slytherin keeping a stoic face. _What does he have to think about this? About what Tom did?_

“M-My Lord…” one of the more courageous Death Eaters stepped up. “Why… why is Potter here? Sitting?”

Voldemort stared at the Death Eater. “Draco,” he simply said.

“That is Nott Snr., My Lord,” Draco said.

“Nott… you have a son named Theodore, correct?” Voldemort said.

“Y-Yes my Lord.”

“Then you should know that Harry Potter is here by my request… he and young Draco have shown more loyalty to me than any of the Death Eaters standing in this room. Both are in your son’s House, and both will be keeping a close watch on him and all of your children…” Voldemort allowed the threat to hang in the air. He smirked at the fearful expressions they all wore underneath their masks.

“But you do not need to worry… as long as you all perform favorably,” Voldemort said. “The summer is almost over, and I expect results. I want the Dementors on our side and for our break-out to be ready before the year is out. Or else your children will suffer the consequences. For you see… not only will Harry and Draco will be watching them… but so will I.” Tom smirked and stood up from his throne. “Why else would I choose my teenage body to reincarnate to?” He stepped slowly towards Nott. Voldemort was shorter yet, for some reason, Harry could see that each and every Death Eater were fearful of him. Voldemort disregarded Yaxley’s body as he stepped over it as if it was a piece of filth and slowly walked around the room, his dark eyes connecting with each and every one. Harry was scared at what would happen if Voldemort stopped.

Voldemort did not stop, however, he just continued walking the perimeter that the Death Eaters made, his steps slow, precise, his fingers holding only his wand loosely. He only stopped when he returned to his chair, where he sat down. “You are dismissed,” he said. Someone made to grab Yaxley but the Dark Lord stopped him. “No, leave him. I am not done.”

Harry’s eyes widened at that. Trembling, the Death Eater nodded and disappeared along with the others in a series of loud cracks. Soon the room was empty, light returned to Tom’s eyes as he looked at Draco. “Get some of your house-elves to bring him to a room in here,” he drawled. “Then when he is awake, your father can send him on his way.”

“Y-Yeah… o-okay,” Draco nodded. Harry felt relieved that Draco felt some of the terror that he currently felt.

“Harry, I have to say that I’m disappointed,” Tom sighed. “You really are too nice for your own good.”

“Too nice? Too nice?” Harry repeated twice, his anger growing now that it was just the three of them. “What the fuck was that shit Tom? You’ve almost let me kill a man!”

“So?”

“I said no killing! I TOLD YOU THAT I WAS NOT READY FOR THAT YOU ASSHOLE!” Harry screamed.

“Do not call me an asshole, it was necc—”

“I will call you whatever the fuck I want!” Harry screamed. “I had one rule—one hard rule: Don’t force me to kill anybody. And what the fuck did you do? You let me almost kill Yaxley!”

“It had to happen!” Tom yelled, jumping to his feet. “It. Had. To Happen! They will not fear us if we do not give them reason!”

“So you’re just going to fucking kill them?” Harry demanded.

“Of course not,” Tom said, “but if he died, there would be no waste.”

“No waste? No waste? What are you even saying?” Harry demanded. “You want them to fear us but that doesn’t mean we have to kill anyone! Hell they probably think they’re some sick sadist who only knows how to kill!”

“And what do you think I am?”

“A sick sadist who only knows how to kill and ignores his boyfriend’s wants,” Harry said. “And let’s not start with the way you treated me in front of them! Us being equals my ass.”

“Again, I needed to act that way to show control—”

“Fuck control! You do not order me around like that,” Harry screamed. “I am not your follower, Tom, I am your boyfriend! Let me restate that again in case you didn’t hear. I. Am. Your. Boyfriend.”

“YOU ARE MY SUBMISSIVE!”

“THAT’S NOT HOW THAT WORKS!”

“IT DOES IN THIS RELATIONSHIP!”

“Well fuck that particular relationship in your head and come back to reality asshole!” Harry yelled. “You do not order me around like that, you do not even think of allowing me to accidentally kill a guy, Death Eater or not, especially when I tell you that I am not ready for that, and if you ever think of doing that shit again I do not care where we are or who’s with us, I will hurt you.”

“You do not get to threaten me Harry! You’re wrong.”

“Wrong?” Harry laughed. “Wrong? Then let’s get another opinion. Draco! Tell us what you think.”

Draco jumped, shocked that he was dragged into the argument. “I—I uh… I don’t think that uhh you should have um done that to Yaxley…To—si—uhh…”

“See?” Harry said, looking victorious. “You stepped out of line, Tom.”

“There was no way I was going to let him die! Honestly,” Tom said.

“Calling bull on that—you should have _talked_ to me about this stuff before hand,” Harry stressed. “You remember? Talking about plans? We tend to do that a lot. Especially after first year. What right do you have, Tom, of springing these things on me? On treating me like that!”

“I am the Dark Lord! I have to control through fear! How else will they follow us Harry? How else will they even consider following orders from two teenage boys?”

“Two teenage boys? Please don’t say you’re splitting yourself again Tom!” Harry snarled. “The only one they feared was you. Fuck, I bet they all felt a great pleasure seeing you roughhouse me like that, treating me like any other bitch.”

“Harry! I do not!”

“Oh yes you do Thomas,” Harry said. “You want control? You want respect? How about you learned how to treat your _FUCKING BOYFRIEND RIGHT!”_

Harry breathed heavily and turned to Draco. “Come on, I’m going home,” he said. “Leave the idiot to his thinking.”

Draco just nodded and hurried after Harry, Yaxley’s unconscious body laid forgotten. The door shut with an angry force, echoing throughout the silent, empty room. Tom stood in his place for a moment, his entire body trembling with a furious force that threatened to break everything. He slammed his fist into his chair and scream.

 

Draco winced as he and Harry heard the echoed scream. “A-Are you two going to be okay?” he asked Harry, who was muttering to himself.

“Stupid bloody fucking prick—uh?” Harry turned to Draco. “Yes, yeah we’ll be fine. Fucking idiot, I can’t believe he would have done that.”

“You two… seem to be very angry,” Draco said.

“Don’t worry, Mummy and Daddy were just arguing,” Harry said offhand. “Though he is just a fucking idiot! We talked about this, I told him that I was not comfortable killing Yaxley. Hell lowering him onto the swords was hard enough! And he just let him hand there on the swords!”

“That’s what the Dark Lord does,” Draco said. “He tortures his subordinates when they displease him. My father suffered under many curses from him.”

“Yeah but that was Voldemort—don’t wince!—this is Tom,” Harry said. “They’re two completely diff—they’re two different people.”

“Still… they were the same person once, right?” Draco asked. Tom and Harry told him of Tom’s origin during the second year.

“Yeah, but I’d hope that his time with me has changed him, you know,” Harry said. “To at least be a bit considerate when I tell him that I can’t kill people yet! I mean there are so many other ways to make that lot follow us, listen to us that doesn’t involve murder!”

“Well… what would you do?” Draco asked. “If you had to scare them?”

“Me? Well I wouldn’t do that stupid sword trick,” Harry said. He was silent for a moment. The two stopped in the middle of a corridor. “I would make Tom to summon snakes because I don’t know the spell… and keep them close to the Death Eaters. I would speak Parseltongue to them for a while, never in English. Parseltongue is still connected to Dark Wizards, and people like your father and the others are more fearful to Dark Wizards than anybody else I would guess. After that… I would finally address the Death Eaters, the snakes close by as they know that with a single word I can have them strike.”

“Hm… I guess that would have worked too,” Draco nodded. He frowned and looked down the corridor. “He did go a bit overboard with those swords, didn’t he?”

“He has,” Harry nodded. He gave a heavy sigh, “But that’s why we’re here. Gotta clean up any mistakes he makes. God knows he won’t. Come on, I’m tired and don’t want to hear his voice anymore.”

Draco just nodded and the two walked to look for Mr. Malfoy. Looking relieved to have Harry out of his house, he brought Harry back to the alleyway they apparated from originally and left him alone. Harry waited a couple of minutes to see if Tom would return. When he didn’t Harry just turned and made the walk back to Number 12 Grimmauld Place alone, walking silently into the house, into his room, then falling asleep as soon as he fell onto his bed. Tom came home half an hour later. He walked to Harry’s room and peeked inside to see that the boy was sleeping.

“Lazy boy,” he grumbled, noticing that Harry did not even change. He closed the door behind him as he undressed to his underwear. He sat down on Harry’s bed and carefully took off Harry’s shoes. “You really are an annoying boy, you know that?” Tom complained to the sleeping Harry. “I know what I’m doing, I knew what I was asking you to do. I told you that there was no way of you killing him.”

Harry roused, his voice heavy with sleep, “Jus’ shut up and go to sleep. Too tired to fight.”

“Then at least learn how to take off your clothes before you go to bed,” Tom complained. He dropped Harry’s shoes on the floor. “I’m going to roll you around a bit,” he said as he began pulling off Harry’s pants and shirt. Harry just groaned and allowed Tom to maneuver his sleepy, heavy body. “Dead weight,” Tom complained again.

“Sleeping.”

With a final tug Tom had Harry in his underwear. “There, you should be more comfortable,” he said.

“Mmhmm.”

Tom got into the bed and turned to face Harry, his eyelids barely open, he was only able to see hints of Harry’s emerald eyes. “Tom?”

“Yes?”

“Love you.”

“I love you too Harry, now to sleep,” Tom said, suppressing a yawn.

“Trying, you keep talking,” Harry murmured. “You’re still wrong, by the way.”

“Of course, I am,” Tom said slightly sarcastically, but by that point Harry was too tired to move his lips and he quickly fell fast asleep again. Tom moved around in the bed, taking some time to find a comfortable position, before pulling Harry closer so he could sleep as well.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Harry found it while they were cleaning one of the many drawing rooms in Grimmauld Place. It was a heavy golden necklace that nobody could open. Ginny threw it unceremoniously into a waste bin along with an unpleasant-looking silver instrument and a musical box that emitted a faintly sinister, tinkling tune when wound. For some reason, the locket was warm in Harry’s hand. It was curiosity that led him to take the locket out of the trash bin. He was busy with a spider that seemed to be made out of angry hairpins to really look at it.

The locket was heavy in Harry’s hand. Made of what seemed like pure gold for both locket and chain, Harry lightly dragged his finger down the ornate _S_ that was carved into it. The more he held it, the more it felt like it was pulsating. It grew hotter, and Harry began very aware of his own heartbeat in his hand. He decided that he was going to show it to Tom, maybe he could explain why Harry was so drawn to the strange locket.

He found his boyfriend helping Sirius clean out a bookcase a floor below. Harry took a step closer to the waste basket to see it full of what looked like books on the Dark Arts and other macabre subjects. “My mother was always such a fanatic about this stuff,” Sirius said, throwing a particularly thick tome into the garbage. “Of course, it does not help that many of these books were written by our relatives. Oh, hello Harry, did not hear you come in.”

Sirius and Tom turned around to see Harry standing by them. “Hello Harry, do you need something?” Tom smiled.

“You,” Harry said simply. “Sirius, is it okay if Tom and I talk?”

“Yeah sure,” Sirius said, and he turned to the bookcase. Harry bit his bottom lip and looked at Tom apprehensively.

“Alone… Sirius,” He stressed.

“Alone?” Sirius repeated. He turned to look at the two of them. “What’s so important that needs to be talked about alone?”

“Couple stuff,” Harry said vaguely. “If you’re worried about us doing anything, you can always leave the door open…”

“Fine, fine, be your romantic selves,” Sirius said, “I’ll be waiting outside, so don’t even think of trying anything.”

“We won’t Sirius, I promise,” Harry smiled.

Sirius gave Harry a suspicious look, but left the room to the couple. Tom watched Sirius leave before turning to Harry. “And what’s so important that you have to kick him out?” he asked.

“This,” Harry said, pulling out the locket. He held his hand out so that the scared serpentine S was on display. “Touch it, it’s warm…” he whispered. He glanced at the door and added, _“It feels weird too… touch it.”_

Tom reached out and clasped his hand over Harry’s. Harry moved their hands so the locket would rest on Tom’s hand. Tom gave a soft intake of breath as he felt the hot pulsating. _“What is it?”_

 _“I don’t know… nobody can open it,”_ Harry whispered. _“Ginny threw it out but… it drew to me.”_

_“Interesting….”_

_“I first thought that we could give it to Draco. As a gift for all he has done,”_ Harry said.

 _“That is a good idea, my little snake,”_ Tom whispered. He looked down at the locket and frowned, _“But first, I want to figure out what exactly this locket is… make sure that we are not giving our Boy something dangerous.”_

Harry nodded in agreement. They both stared at the locket for a moment. “What does it feel to you?” Harry asked in English.

“A heartbeat… it feels as though the locket has a heartbeat,” Tom said. He was frowning slightly down at the locket. “Curious…”

“What are you thinking?” Harry asked.

“I’m wondering why this locket has a heartbeat in the first place,” Tom said. He moved the locket to hold it between his fingers and lifted that into the air, as though to examine it more closely. “And this ‘S’, it looks like a snake… especially with the green stones… you said you found this in a random cabinet?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded.

“Hmm… interesting,” Tom said. “I have no idea what this is… but I think for the time being, it should be safe for you to hold onto. Keep it in your pocket little snake.”

He stepped forward and kissed Harry’s cheek as he slid the locket into Harry’s pocket. “You can do that for Daddy, right Harry?” he whispered in Harry’s ear.

The boy nodded, biting his lip to fight off the blush. Tom smirked and kissed Harry’s cheek again, calling him a good boy. “I will be sleeping in your room again tonight Harry, there are some more things I want to talk about.”

“Okay Daddy,” Harry nodded. Tom smiled at that and patted Harry’s head.

“Good, now Daddy has some work to do, so go back to the others, okay?” Tom said.

Harry nodded and leaned to kiss Tom briefly. “Love you,” he muttered.

“I love you too Harry, see you in a bit,” Tom said.

Harry left, his hand in his pocket, and his fingers caressing the locket. He did not know why he wanted to keep touching it, even as he returned back to the drawing room to help clean up, his hand always found its way to the locket, touching it, caressing it, letting its heavy chain glide across his fingers. Hours later, when the room was clean, and dinner was announced, Harry had all but taken out the locket to wear it around his neck. The only reason he hasn’t done so is because Tom has ordered him not to do it.

As always, Harry and Tom sat next to each other, their chairs practically touching. Tom’s left hand was always on Harry’s inner thigh underneath the table, teasing the boy as they ate. “Look at you two, can’t get sappier than that,” George Weasley commented as Harry filled Tom’s plate with his favorite foods. “You two ever spend time away from each other?”

“I think it’s cute that they do that,” Ginny said. “Shows that they actually listen to each other.”

“Oh yeah?” George challenged. He looked at Harry and said, “Then why don’t you tell us what food he hates?”

“George! Really,” Mrs. Weasley scoffed.

“No, no, I want to know, come on Harry, what food makes Tommy here vomit?” George smiled.

“He’s allergic to strawberries, and detests fish,” Harry answered easily. Tom smiled in pride and wink at Harry, squeezing his inner thigh approvingly.

“Right well… what about his cleaning habits? Do you know that?” George challenged Harry.

“You do realize that we have been living together in the same room since we were seven, correct?” Tom asked. “It is easy to say that Harry and I know every single aspect of each other’s lives. Including the fact that when we were eight, Harry cried when we saw _Cinderella_.”

Hermione gave a soft laugh as Harry glared at Tom. “Tom! Don’t tell them that!” he said.

“It’s true,” Tom shrugged.

He and Harry looked out at the Weasleys and saw their confusion. “What’s the matter?” Harry asked. “You guys have never heard of Cinderella?”

“That a muggle thing or something?” Ron asked.

“Yeah… it’s a popular fairy tale,” Harry answered. “Do you guys not have children’s’ stories here?”

“Course we do,” Fred said. “And they’re all way better sounding than your Cinder-rella.”

“It’s Cinderella,” Hermione corrected. She looked at Harry and said, “That was a favorite of mine too… though I did not exactly cry during it.”

“Gee thanks,” Harry muttered. He turned to Fred and said, “You guys seriously don’t have _Cinderella? Or Little Red Riding Hood or Snow White? Sleeping Beauty_?”

“Nope,” Fred said, “our children stories are all better sounding than those.”

“Then what are they?” Harry asked.

“Well, there’s _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , of course,” Fred said, as if it was common knowledge.

“What?”

“You know, Beedle the Bard, his stories were told to all the wizarding children,” Fred said. “ _The_ _Wizard and the Hopping Pot, the Fountain of Fair Fortune, The Tale of the Three Brothers_ , my favorite when I was little was always _The Warlock’s Hairy Heart_.”

“They all sound ridiculous,” Tom said. He frowned and leaned towards Harry, whispering so only he can hear, “When we rule, I think it might be good to bring in our fairy tales.”

“You just have a soft spot for Maleficent,” Harry whispered.

“Maybe, but that is information only for the Dark Lord and his sub,” Tom chuckled.

“And the sappiest couple is at it again,” George said. “Whispering to each other.”

“You’re just jealous,” Ginny threw.

“Am not!”

“That’s enough now, both of you,” Mrs. Weasley said, looking thoroughly annoyed at her children. Happy for the silence, she turned to Tonks and said, “Now what was it you were saying, dear?”

Harry looked at Tom and frowned, recognizing a curious look on his face. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“The Beedle and the Bard,” Tom said. “I mean, I need something to read when I’m with the twins at night.”

“You seriously thinking of reading children’s stories?” Harry chuckled.

“Since I can’t read my normal books? Yes,” Tom nodded. He leaned in close and whispered, “And if you’re good, Daddy might read you a story too.”

“Tom,” Harry whispered. Tom squeezed Harry’s thigh hard, his nails digging into the fabric of Harry’s pants. “Well boy, do you want Daddy to read to you?”

Harry nodded.

“Good boy,” Tom chuckled. He kissed Harry’s cheek and moved away.

“This time they kissed!” George said.

Tom just smirked at him, “Don’t be jealous Weasley, not everyone can have a perfect boyfriend like Harry.”

Ginny and Fred burst out laughing as Ron looked at the two, his ears red.

When dinner was over, Ron ran back to his and Harry’s room as Harry and Tom were assigned to help Mrs. Weasley clean. When they were done, the two returned to Harry’s room where Ron was sitting.

“Hey…”

“Hey Ron, I know this is awkward but… can we ask you to spend the night with George and Fred tonight?” Harry asked. “Tom wants to sleep in my bed.”

Ron frowned, “I don’t see why I can’t stay, I mean, I’m not doing anything wrong, am I?”

“No but…”

“So I can stay here, right?” Ron asked.

“Umm… Tom and I were going to be… intimate, you know, kiss and stuff…” Harry said, “I don’t want to gross you out.”

“You won’t gross me out!” Ron said quickly. His face going red he looked at the two and bit his lip, “I uh like guys… and girls.”

An awkward silence fell over the three of them. Harry turned to look apologetic at Tom, who just shrugged. “Let him stay, I do not mind, little snake,” he said. “R-Really?” Harry asked.

“Of course, however…. Ron, my old friend, I need you to do something very important,” Tom said.

“What is it?”

“What you hear stays in this room only,” Tom said. “Anything you hear, anything you see, anything you suspect, will stay in here. You will not speak of it to anyone, at anytime without my approval. Understand? If you even think of speaking about this to anyone, I will find you, and you will be punished.” Harry felt a shiver of cold air fly through him as Tom let his threat into the air. His cock jumped in response.

Ron nodded. Tom smirked, “Good Boy. Gryffindors are such docile kittens. Now…” He turned to Harry, _“Do not speak English, keep to Parseltongue until we are done, and for heaven’s sake do not pull out the locket.”_

 _“Yes Daddy,”_ Harry nodded as Ron gasped.

“You’re a Parseltongue, Tom!” he said.

“Yes, now please keep that to yourself Ron,” Tom nodded. Ron nodded slowly and sat back, watching the two Slytherins speak in Parseltongue. _“Regarding the Locket, I want to talk about it’s heartbeat.”_

_“What are you thinking?”_

_“That the Locket is like the diary, and that cup destroyed in the summer,”_ Tom said. _“I do not know what exactly about it, but I am just getting that feeling. That it is something very important to Voldemort. So, it is important to us.”_

_“So we shouldn’t give it to Draco?”_

_“On the contrary, I believe giving it to Draco is the best thing to do,”_ Tom said, smiling. _“That way we know where it is at all time, until we find a way to destroy it.”_

_“Destroy it?”_

_“We have no need of any remanence of the other Voldemort,”_ Tom said _. “We are the new Voldemort… so we shall kill the old to raise the new. Besides, such an ancient looking thing like that… we can buy our Boy a better locket anytime. Once we have the money, that is.”_

 _“I guess so… wish I knew what exactly these things are exactly,”_ Harry said.

_“Me too, but I have a hypothesis, if you’ll hear it.”_

_“What is it?”_

_“That these objects. The diary, the cup, and maybe the locket, all hold pieces of Voldemort. How I do not know, but that is how he has been living without a body. They somehow connect to him, become part of his life… or hold onto his life. Even a fraction of it…”_

_“Do you think… that maybe you are like them?”_ Harry asked.

 _“No, no, that’s stupid. I am not like them,”_ Tom shook his head, _“I am myself, I am whole. That is all we need to know. Now… how do you think the locket will open?”_

 _“It would help if we knew what the ‘S’ stands for,”_ Harry frowned. _“Do you have any ideas?”_

 _“So far, none,”_ Tom said. _“However… somehow Voldemort was drawn to this locket if it does in fact hold a piece of him.”_

 _“So the locket must have some importance,”_ Harry said, _“I mean, it has a heartbeat and everything…”_ His hand slipped back into his pocket to touch the locket. He felt the heavy chain, fingers glided over the green serpentine S… then he felt something odd. Instead of feeling the heavy oval shape, his fingers stopped short of where the locket would open, and slipped inside. His eyes widened as he felt the locket with his whole hand, feeling two distinct circular parts. _“It’s open! It’s open!”_

_“What?”_

_“The Locket! Look!”_ And without thinking, Harry pulled out the locket, which sat open on the palm of his hand. He expected to see more decoration, or maybe a picture inside, but instead there were two handsome brown eyes that stared up at him and Tom. _“They’re your eyes…”_

“What is that?” Ron asked curiously.

Harry jumped and snapped the locket shut, shoving it into his pocket as he and Tom turned around. Ron winced, looking apologetically, “Sorry… guess you forgot I was here, eh?”

“No, no… I’m sorry we did,” Harry said quickly.

“What were you two talking about?” Ron asked.

“Some relationship business,” Tom said.

“And that jewelry thing?” Ron asked.

“A gift we wanted to give to Draco,” Tom lied easily. “We wanted to keep it a complete secret, so we’ve decided to speak about it in Parseltongue. Harry was having trouble opening it, so his exclaim was his surprise to seeing it open so easily.”

“Ohh… guess that makes sense,” Ron said. “So, you two are planning on giving that to Malfoy?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “Something like a belated birthday present.”

Ron looked at the two of them and scoffed a little. “You two are the nicest Slytherins I think ever existed,” he said. “I never thought a Slytherin would give someone a present like that.”

Harry smiled easily, “Well, we did put a lot of investment into Draco. Remember Ron? We’ve four years worth of hammering manners into him.”

“Yeah… I remember now,” Ron nodded. “Though he’s still a bit of a prick though, remember third year?”

Harry frowned and nodded. Tom, however, gave a perverse smile and said, “And we have punished him accordingly for that. Granger’s punch helped also.”

“Yeah, that was funny,” Ron chuckled.

“Yeah… anyway Tom, I think we should talk about the gift later,” Harry smiled. “I’ll keep it safe till then.”

“Of course, my little snake,” Tom said, and openly kissed Harry in front of Ron. Both boys blushed in embarrassment, Ron looking away to give the couple some privacy. Tom pulled away and looked at Ron. “So, you did not grow up on the same fairy tales as muggles?”

“What? Uh no,” Ron said. “We had Beedle the Bard, not Cinder-rella.”

“Cinderella, one word,” Harry corrected automatically.

“So weird…”

“Is it possible for you to find a copy here in this house?” Tom asked.

“Maybe but… why would you want to read a kid’s book?” Ron frowned.

“That is for my own reasons,” Tom said. “I want that book.”

Harry sighed and shook his head, “Really? You’re focused on this book now?”

“I need something to read while I am with the twins,” Tom said.

Ron looked at the couple as Harry gave an annoyed noise, shaking his head slightly. “So childish sometimes.” He looked at Ron and said, “Tom has a lot of books that he reads, and wants to read, but to be frank some of them are very adult.”

“Adult?” Ron frowned, “What do you mean by that?”

“Erotica,” Tom answered. “I read erotica, Weasley. That, along with other subjects that I feel your brothers would be too immature to respond to. So, I would like to have at least something child-appropriate if I am to be with them. I do not know how I have survived until now.”

“Oh…” Ron said, his entire face blushing in embarrassment. Tom chuckled at that, “So you are innocent like your brothers, too Ron? How adorable.”

“More importantly, you seriously just ordered Ron to find that book for you?” Harry asked.

“Yes.”

“And you are not going to let it die until you get it tonight, are you?”

“Of course not, little snake,” Tom smirked. Harry rolled his eyes and turned to Ron, “Come on Ron, let’s make him happy. Believe me, it’d be better for him to have the book now than him bitching about it.”

“Excuse me! I do not bitch!”

“Yes you do!”

“Harry,” Tom warned.

“Ron’s here, roles don’t apply,” Harry said cheekily. “Come on Ron.” He took Ron’s arm and pulled him out of the room. “Sorry about that, Tom can be a little… arrogant when he gives orders.”

“A little?” Ron snorted. “What you mean by roles earlier?”

“Oh…. That,” Harry blushed and bit his bottom lip. “Promise you’re not going to judge?”

“No, but still tell me,” Ron said. Harry rolled his eyes at Ron. “Come on! You can tell me mate,” Ron insisted.

“Fine,” Harry sighed. “We’re in a bit of a BDSM relationship, okay? He’s the Dominant, and I’m his sub.”

“O-ohh… no judgement,” Ron shrugged. “So like… with this thing… he tells you to do things and you just do them?”

“Well, most of the time yeah, but we agree to keep it to the bedroom,” Harry said. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter now, we should look for the book. Trust me, you don’t want to hear Tom whining.”

Ron laughed and followed Harry. They found the book surprisingly easily. It was in a room on the top floor with a “Do Not Disturb” sign that was hanging off it’s holdings. It was a strange room full of Slytherin colors, the walls were all adorned with newspaper clippings that, on further inspection, were all about Voldemort. Harry and Ron had no time to question whose room that was as Ron quickly found _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ and they left.

“Finally,” Tom huffed as Harry and Ron returned to the room. Harry handed him the copy, and Tom looked it over. “Looks a bit old… but it’s good.” He skimmed through the book and looked up at Ron. “You said that children grew up on these?”

“Yeah, like I said,” Ron nodded. “Everyone knows about Beedle the Bard.”

“Interesting…” Tom said. He sat up in Harry’s bed and opened the book.

“You seriously going to read that?”

“Like I said, can’t read my normal books with the twins… or you, so I’ll have to deal with this for now,” Tom said. “Besides, I want to know more about the wizarding world.” He smirked at Harry and whispered, _“It will make it easier to take over.”_

Harry just smiled and nodded as he sat down on his bed, kicking off his shoes.

“So what now?” Ron yawned.

“Now, you will sleep,” Tom said. “However you sleep normally will suffice, just do not make much noise. I’ll be up for a bit, reading.”

Harry sighed and looked at Ron apologetically, “Sorry… he’s like this sometimes.”

“I’m glad I don’t dorm with you guys then,” Ron muttered. “Night I guess.” He dressed in his pajamas and went to bed. Harry and Tom waited to make sure that Ron was fully asleep before getting comfortable in Harry’s bed.

“Going to read me a story, Daddy?” Harry asked.

“Only if you’re a good boy,” Tom smirked.

“Well… I’m still mad at you for what happened at Draco’s home,” Harry sighed, “but you can make it up a little bit by reading to me.”

“Then rest on Daddy’s chest,” Tom said. Harry smiled and rested on Tom’s chest as the older Slytherin opened the book. “Let’s see… first one is _The Wizard and the Hopping Pot_. Sounds cheesy, I don’t think we’ll find a Maleficent in this book.”

“Just read, Daddy,” Harry whined.

Tom chuckled and petted Harry’s head. “Patience, little snake. Let’s see…

_“There was once a kindly old wizard who used his magic generously and wisely for the benefit of his neighbors. Rather than reveal the true source of his power, he pretended that his potions, charms, and antidotes sprang ready-made from the little cauldron he called his lucky cooking pot. From miles around, people came to him with their troubles, and the wizard was pleased to give his pot a stir and put things right._

_“This well-beloved wizard lived to a goodly age, then died, leaving all his chattels to his only son. This son was a very different disposition to his gentle father. Those who could not work magic were, to the son’s mind, worthless, and he had often quarreled with his father’s habit of dispensing magical aid to their neighbors._

_“Upon the father’s death, the son found hidden inside the old cooking pot a small package bearing his name. He opened it, hoping for gold, but found instead a soft, thick slipper, much too small to wear, and with no pair. A fragment of parchment within the slipper bore the words ‘In the fond hope, my son, that you will never need it.’”_

Tom read the story to Harry. When they were done, Harry decided to play with his Daddy for a while, the two touching and kissing any body part they could reach, keeping quiet to make sure not to wake Ron up. Half an hour later, when they were exhausted, Harry took off his glasses and rested on his Daddy’s chest, both falling asleep instantly.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

The rest of the summer moved too quickly for Harry. Before he knew it, he and Tom were on the Hogwarts Express with Blaise Zabini as they wait for Draco to return from his new Prefect duties. Tom was, as usual, reading as Harry and Blaise talked.

“So, are you going to explain why Tom is so engrossed with a children’s book?” Blaise asked, pointing to Tom, who was in fact still reading _The Tales of Beedle the Bard._

“Oh that, we learned that you guys had different fairy tales than us, and Tom just got very interested in it,” Harry said. “He needed something to read while he slept with the Weasley Twins, since most of his regular books are umm… too erotic, and he ended up picking this one,” Harry explained. He looked at Tom and frowned, “I don’t know which one he is reading at the moment, however.”

“ _The Tale of The Three Brothers,”_ Tom simply replied. “So far, I like it. Would you like me to read it to you, Harry?”

“Why not, we need something to pass the time while my little Drake is out,” Blaise shrugged, stretching in his seat. “Read us a bedtime story, my Lord,” he said, smirking. “What? You think Drake can keep a secret from me?”

Tom glared at Blaise, but chose to ignore it, he will speak with the boy in more private settings later. Instead, he pulled Harry closer to him and turned back to the beginning of the story, where he began to read it.

_“There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure._

_“And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travelers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic, and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him._

_“So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother._

_“Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So, Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead._

_“And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility._

_“Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way, and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death’s gifts. In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination._

_“The first brother traveled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to wind the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, and of how it made him invincible. That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed. The thief took the wand and, for good measure, slit the oldest brother’s throat._

_“And so Death took the first brother for his own._

_“Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turn it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry, before her untimely death, appeared at once before him. Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as truly to join her._

_“And so Death took the second brother for his own._

_“But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life.”_

Tom finished reading and a silence fell upon them. Harry looked up at Tom as the older Slytherin closed the book. Blaise looked at him mildly entertained as Tom frowned. “That was a children’s story?” he said. “It seemed so macabre, not to mention different from the others.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“It is written differently, I think, or at least have a different style,” Tom said. He stared at the book for a bit and shrugged, “Strange fairy tale.”

“But a great one!” Blaise smiled. “I remember when I was a kid, I used to fantasize what I would do if I had any of those things. Usually the wand.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, like I would get all the cutest boys to my home and they’ll do everything for me while I stay in my bed,” Blaise smiled. “Of course, now my fantasy changed so they’re near naked.” He winked at Harry, who blushed a vivid red.

“Hmm… interesting,” Tom said. He pulled out his own wand and stared at it. “I might like this Elder Wand too,” he said. “I’ve beaten this one into submission, it does my every command now, almost perfectly. Yet I can feel that there is always this little bit of resistance that I cannot squash.”

“You mean that’s not your wand?” Blaise frowned.

“It is, but not the wand that chose me,” Tom said. “That one is somewhere else entirely, where I do not know. The other Lord Voldemort had it, but he is long dead.”

“Interesting…” Blaise said.

“Hmm,” Tom nodded. “An unbeatable wand would be very helpful, nonetheless, however.” His hand moved to Harry’s inner thigh and hissed out, _“Just think of all the things I can do to you, little snake. All the ways to make you submit.”_

Harry moaned and leaned into Tom more.

“Well, if you two are done with your moment,” Blaise said, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Sorry Blaise,” Harry said, he was blushing heavily. He was saved from any further embarrassment as the compartment door slid open, an annoyed looking Draco walking in, followed unfortunately by a talking Pansy Parkinson. In the four years Harry and Tom have been in Hogwarts, Harry had tried his best to avoid Pansy. There was something about her that he did not just like at all. Maybe it was the way she looked, or her high, annoying voice, or maybe it might just be that he just did not like her personality. Either way, when he saw Parkinson, Harry said in a snappish tone, “What are you doing here?”

“Shut it Potter, you should be nicer to me, I’m a prefect now,” Pansy said smugly as she forced herself into the seat next to Draco.

“Couldn’t shake her off,” Draco grumbled.

“Well, it is alright either way,” Tom shrugged. “Ahh, yes, since you are here… Harry love, don’t you have something for Draco?”

“Oh right! I do,” Harry said. He smiled as he stood up and turned to the trunks hanging overhead. As he did so, the compartment door opened and Ron came in, “Harry, there you are,” he said.

“What are you doing here, Weasley?” Parkinson snapped, glaring at him.

“Me? Why are you here?” Ron asked Parkinson.

“I am a Slytherin, you disgusting poor—”

“Shut up,” Tom said, looking at Parkinson. “Ronald, have a seat,” he pointed to the seating on his side. Ron sat as Harry pulled something out of his trunk and sat back between him and Tom. “Hello Ron,” Harry smiled.

“Why are you—”

“Please shut up Parkinson,” Harry said rudely. “I did not invite you in here, you are not invited, and I want you out of this compartment.”

Pansy stared at Harry, shocked, as if she did not believe that a fellow Slytherin would speak to her like that. She looked as though she was going to argue, but Harry ignored her.

He looked at Draco and smiled, “Look at this,” he said as he pulled out a golden heavy locket with a serpentine _S_ made out of emerald jewels. “It’s a bit on the gaudy side, but Tom and I wanted to give it to you. As a sort of thank you, for all that you’ve done so far.” He smiled innocently as he stood up, holding the necklace out. All eyes were on him.

“W-Wow… thank you Harry,” Draco breathed. “Where did you even…”

“To be honest, I found it in Sirius’s house,” Harry said. “They were going to throw it out but something about it drew me to it. So I saved it and showed it to Tom. We talked about it, and we agreed that it would be a nice gift for you. So… what do you think?”

“It’s a bit overwhelming… and gaudy like you said, but thank you Harry, Tom,” Draco said. He leaned his head downwards and Harry hooked the necklace around his neck. He sat down smiling as Draco examined the locket with Blaise.

“Those who help up will receive similar gifts of importance,” Tom said in a kingly manner. “Remember that Ron.”

Parkinson looked between the locket and the boys. She looked annoyed, jealous even. She tried to get a better look at the locket, but Draco refused her. He did, however, shown it off to Ron when he asked to look at it.

“You would show him rather than me?” Pansy demanded. “What the hell!”

“Nobody here likes you, why are you even here?” Harry asked. “Tom and myself have not talked with you, or towards you in four years. Why are you so suddenly interested in us and Draco now?”

“I—that’s none of your business, Potter,” Parkinson said, her cheeks growing pink. Harry stared at her for a moment before turning to Tom. He took the book off Tom’s lap and sat on it, wrapping his arms around Tom’s neck. Tom smirked as his hands moved to Harry’s hips.

Harry giggled and looked at Draco, “I think the Good Boys should entertain their men, don’t you think?”

Draco looked at Harry for a moment before having a similar smirk. “I think you’re right Harry,” he chuckled. Draco moved on Blaise’s lap as his man’s hands moved to his waist. Both boys laughed as they descended on their man’s lips, both couples soon snogging heavily.

Ron bit his lip and blushed vividly as he looked away, giving them needed privacy as he focused on his growing erection as Pansy seemed to glower in disgust. The two couples ignored her as they continued to snog, their lips and tongues pressing against each other’s as they fought for dominance until Draco and Harry both submitted to their men.

The four began to moan and Ron began to blush even more. Pansy stood up angrily, “Disgusting poofs,” she said before stomping out of the compartment, slamming the door closed behind her.

Harry chuckled as he slipped away from Tom. “That was fun,” he purred.

“You naughty snake,” Tom chuckled, slapping Harry’s ass lightly as Harry slipped off. Draco and Blaise shared one more kiss before Draco slipped off of Blaise’s lap as well.

Harry just smiled, “It made her go away,” he said coyly. Tom chuckled and placed his hand on Harry’s inner thigh squeezing it hard. He looked at Ron, who was still blushing madly, and asked, “Have you enjoyed the little show, Ronald?”

“I—I err…”

Tom chuckled, “It is okay if you’ve enjoyed watching, I like showing off.”

Both Ron and Harry blushed as Tom chuckled.

“Anyway Weasley,” Blaise said, turning his attention to Ron, “I’m going to guess that you like boys, yeah.”

“Yeah… and girls,” Ron said, fighting through his blush. “I uh actually love feminine boys the best…”

“Nice,” Blaise smirked, “I’m the same a bit, I mean, look at my Draco.”

“Excuse me!” Draco yelled, causing Blaise to laugh.

“Y-yeah… well…” Ron rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. “Not to be rude but… I like my boys more girly.”

“Ahh,” Blaise said while Draco still gave him a sharp look. “I got you,” he nodded. Ron smiled hesitantly as he leaned back in his chair. “Anyway Weasley, I’m surprised, here you are sitting with Slytherins. You must be either really stupid, or really brave.”

“He is brave, but not stupid,” Tom said. “He also knows some things about Harry and I that we would like to keep secret from everyone else. He can be trusted.” Ron smiled at Tom with pride. “That said, Ronald, can you do me a favor and walk around for a while? Harry and I need to talk to Draco and Blaise about personal effects, and I rather you not faint from embarrassment.”

“Y-Yeah… sure… I’ll get going,” Ron said. He stood up and left the compartment. Tom flicked his wand at the door, and Harry heard it locked.

“There, now we will not be interrupted,” Tom said.

“So Tom, what do you want to talk about?” Blaise asked with a huge grin.

“How Harry and I will take over as Lord Voldemort and his sub,” Tom said simply. Blaise jumped a little, surprised at Tom’s words, as Draco and Harry remained calm. “Ron does not know that I am the Dark Lord yet, but I believe that he will be useful.”

“I want Ron as one of us,” Harry said. “I want him to know that Tom is the Dark Lord, and I want him to help us to our goals. He already knows that Tom is a Parselmouth.”

“But a Weasley following the Dark Lord?” Draco said, chuckling, “That is an impossible task. The whole family is drowned is devoted to Dumbledore.”

“But we’re not trying to change the whole family’s opinion, just Ron,” Harry said. He frowned, “I don’t want to lose him through our actions.”

“So how do you suggest to handle it, Harry?” Tom asked. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Maybe…” Harry said. He leaned towards Tom and casing his eyes downward as he bit his thumbnail in thought. “What if… we can seduce him?”

“What do you mean?” Blaise asked.

“He likes girls and girly boys,” Harry said. “We can use that to our advantage. We can set him up with a very feminine boy, and use him to get Ron on our side. He is already our friend, he’ll be grateful to us for setting him and his new boyfriend up, so he’ll be more likely to listen to reason. Also, his boyfriend will also work to seduce him to our side. Teaching him Dark Arts that the Light doesn’t like, but will only benefit Ron.”

Draco and Blaise stared at Harry, their mouths slightly agape as Tom smirked with pride, his hand combing through Harry’s hair. Harry stared at his friends and frowned at their shocked expressions. “What?” he asked. “Is something the matter?”

Tom chuckled and ruffled Harry’s hair a little. “I am sure that they are shocked that a pretty boy such as yourself came up with the plan,” he said. “Then again, they do not know about your plan in first year…”

“Oh yeah, they don’t,” Harry blushed.

“What happened in first year?” Blaise asked. “What did I miss?”

“Umm… should I tell him?” Harry asked, looking up at Tom.

“It’s your choice, little snake,” Tom said. “What you have done was genius, if not extremely dangerous and lewd.”

“Oh, now I need to know,” Blaise said. He moved forward a little, leaning towards Harry slightly. Harry blushed and bit his bottom lip. “In first year… Voldemort was on the back of Quirrell’s head. Tom and I needed a way tot bring him to Dumbledore’s office before he could even begin to get the Sorcerer’s Stone so… so I learned how to fist myself, to make it look like Quirrell has done it.”

“W-Wow… that’s coldhearted Harry,” Blaise said. Harry shrugged and smiled softly at Tom, “I had to do it to keep Tom safe,” he said.

“Such a good boy,” Tom muttered, patting his head. Harry mewled in response. Blaise and Draco both continued to stare at Harry in disbelief. Draco opened and closed his mouth several times before Blaise spoke up.

“Harry Potter… I keep underestimating you,” he said, “I should stop doing that.”

“Yeah, you should,” Harry mewled. “I can be very naughty.” He gave a childish smile and winked at Blaise.

“Anyway, if we can go back on topic,” Tom said. “During the summer, Harry and I have made contact with the remaining Death Eaters. We are currently planning on breaking out the remaining Death Eaters from Azkaban. I am planning on using them as a distraction. Hopefully, they will be smart and not try to revolt against us… or else I cannot guarantee their children’s safety.”

“What do you mean?” Blaise frowned.

“They know that I am in their year… and that Harry is mine,” Tom said. “They also know, through some tactics, that I will not hesitate to punish the children for their parents’ incompetence.” Harry frowned a little, remembering Tom’s “tactic” that almost made the boy kill a man.

“Ohh… you’re not actually going to hurt them, are you?” Blaise asked. “I mean, there are some who are good, like Theo, and the younger years.”

Tom looked at Blaise, any show of emotions gone as he said coldly, “If the parents prove to be satisfactory, then I will not harm a single hair on their children. If they don’t… then I will do so without hesitation.”

The three boys paled.

“However, … I might be lenient, if the children swear to follow me, and honor me above their parents,” Tom said. “The current Death Eaters are… useful, however their certain ideology clashes with mine. I was not the one who brought them together, the previous Dark Lord did. I want followers of my own. Followers that I have amassed by myself and will follow my orders because of what I have done, not what the other one has.”

“Well, you have two followers here, My Lord,” Blaise said seriously, Draco nodding in agreement.

“And I thank you two for that,” Tom said. “However, I need more…” He leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs. He thought, his eyes closed as he twirled his wand between his fingertips. “I want… to control Slytherin House by the end of the year,” he said after some time. “By this point, the other me had already started to gather his followers, the first of the Death Eaters. It was a small group, I want to outdo him in every way.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Blaise asked. “You cannot simply just walk into our common room and declare your dominance.”

“Can’t I?” Tom smirked. He looked at Blaise and hissed out, _“Why shouldn’t I be in control? After all, I can speak Parseltongue.”_

Blaise and Draco both shivered, as if suddenly cold, while Harry giggled. _“Daddy,_ _don’t be like that,”_ he hissed. Tom responded by slapping his thigh.

“I mean… you both can hiss,” Blaise said. “But that does not make sense… I’ve read somewhere that it’s a hereditary trait passed by Slytherin.”

“It is huh…” Tom said. “That’s interesting. Then our plan is set. First, I must prove that I am Slytherin’s heir, along with Harry. Then, with that connection set, taking over Slytherin would be too easy.”

“Is there any way I can help you?” Draco asked. “I’m sure that my family have a genealogy book that covers all of the pureblood families. Slytherin was a pureblood, as well as the other founders, so they’ll be in there.”

“That will be great, thank you Draco,” Tom said. He gave the Malfoy a brief smile before standing up.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked.

“To find Ron,” Tom said. “I think we’ve left him alone for a little too long.”

“Okay,” Harry said. He curled up in Tom’s seat and picked up Tom’s book as his boyfriend left, only to return almost immediately. “He’s sitting with his Gryffindor friends,” he said. “They’re just across, I’ve said hello to them all.”

“Very quick,” Harry said.

“Yes, anyway, we don’t have to worry about our friend being alone,” Tom said. He moved to his seat and, instead of waiting for Harry to move, he picked Harry up with surprising strength and sat down, placing Harry firmly on his lap. _“Be a good boy for Daddy now,”_ he hissed in Harry’s ear. The boy giggled and nodded.

Blaise did the same with Draco, biting his earlobe as he whispered something Harry couldn’t hear.  The two couples spend the rest of the ride talking with each other, interrupted every now and again for brief snogging sessions and quick, stealthy hands with perverted promises. By the time the Hogwarts Express rolled to a stop, all four were breathing deeply, their moans filled the compartment as they all did not bother to hide the growing erections in their trousers. “We’re going to have fun tonight, Harry,” Tom growled in Harry’s ear. “You’re going to put on a show for Daddy.”

“You better be ready to serve Master tonight too Draco,” Blaise chuckled.

Both boys moaned but smiled as they slipped off of their respected man. With their trunks, off the overhead, they followed the sea of students through the train corridors out onto the Hogsmeade Station where a clear night sky hung overhead. They left their trunks on the station, as they will be brought up separately, and made their way to the horseless carriages that will bring them to Hogwarts castle. Except, as Harry drew nearer, he saw that they weren’t horseless.

There were creatures standing between the carriage shafts; if he had had to give them a name, he supposed he would have called them horses, though they were something reptilian about them, too. They were completely fleshless, their black coats clinging to their skeletons, of which every bone was visible. Their heads were dragonish, their pupil-less eyes white and staring. Wings sprouted from each wither—vast, black leathery wings that looked as though they ought to belong to giant bats. Standing still and quiet in the gloom, the creatures looked eerie and sinister. Harry could not understand why the coaches were being pulled by these horrible horses when they were quite capable of moving along by themselves.

“Harry, is anything the matter?” Tom said, noticing that Harry had stopped moving. Harry turned to see Tom holding Hedwig.

“What are those creatures?” he asked, pointing to the horrible horses.

“What creatures?” Blaise asked.

“Those horses pulling the carriages,” Harry said.

“There are no horses, they pull themselves Harry,” Blaise said. “What are you talking about?”

“What am I talking—look!”

Harry grabbed Blaise’s arm and wheeled him about so that he was face-to-face with the winged horse. Blaise stared straight at it for a second, then looked back at Harry. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

“The horses! They’re right there in front of you!” Harry said, getting impatient. But as Blaise continued to look bemused, a strange thought occurred to Harry.

“Can’t… can’t you see them?”

“See what?”

“Can’t you see what’s pulling the carriages?”

“You feeling alright, Harry?” Blaise asked, looking a little alarmed.

“I… yeah…”

Harry felt utterly bewildered. The horse was there in front of him, gleaming solidly in the dim light issuing from the station windows behind them, vapor rising from its nostrils in the chilly night air. Yet unless Blaise was faking—and it was a very feeble joke if he was—Blaise could not see it at all.

“Shall we get in, then Harry?” Blaise asked.

“Yeah… yeah, go on…”

“It’s all right,” a dreamy voice said from beside Harry as Blaise vanished into the coach’s dark interior. “You’re not going mad or anything, I can see them too.”

Harry turned to see a girl with straggly, waist-length, dirty-blond hair, very pale eyebrows, and protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look. She gave off an aura of distinct dottiness, with her wand stuck behind her ear for safekeeping, and necklace made of butterbeer caps. “I’m Luna Lovegood,” she said, “and you’re Harry Potter.”

“Err… yeah…” Harry said.

“I’ve been able to see them ever since my first day here. They’ve always pulled the carriages. Don’t worry though, you’re just as sane as I am.”

Smiling faintly, she turned and climbed into the musty interior of another carriage. Not feeling reassured at all, instead feeling very confused, Harry followed after Blaise and sat next to Tom, curling against his Daddy.

“You took your time, little snake,” Tom said.

“Hmm… just met this weird girl, nothing important,” Harry said.

“Well, alright,” Tom said. He swung his arm around Harry and looked at Blaise and Draco. “Ah yes, I was telling you about the giants…”


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

“Who’s that sitting on the staff table?”

Harry looked at Blaise’s question. The four of them were in their seats at the Great Hall, waiting for the First Years to arrive with Hagrid. Harry turned his gaze to the staff table along with Tom to see, sitting next to Dumbledore, a woman dressed in pink. She looked like someone’s maiden aunt: squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. Then she turned her face slightly to take a sip from her goblet and Harry saw a pallid, toadlike face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “I am guessing that it is the new Defense of the Dark Arts teacher.”

“She looks absolutely horrid,” Tom said.

“Tom!”

“Umbridge,” Draco’s voice called out. Harry and Tom turned to their friend as he continued to stare at the woman. “Dolores Umbridge, she’s the Minister of Magic’s Senior Undersecretary.”

“And a horrible woman, I also heard she smells of cats,” a voice said. Harry looked down to see a strange boy smiling at him. He looked younger, perhaps a fourth year, yet Harry was sure he saw him in his first year. The boy had black hair that reached the bottom of his ears, and had a slightly naturally spiky look to them. His eyes were strangely almond shape and light blue, queerly enough for some incomprehensibly reason the outsides of his eyes were black, as if the boy wore eyeliner or any other type of make-up. His nose was skinny and led to pinkish lips that held a sly smile. “Hello Harry, nice for our famed Slytherin to notice me,” the boy said with a girlish giggle.

“Uh… high… and you are?”

“He is Xavier Nathair,” Tom said. “A year above us Harry. He tends to keep to himself, though he is known for his… feminine aspects.”

Xavier smiled at Tom and nodded slightly, “So nice to have Tom Riddle recognize me.”

“Don’t feel so kind, I know everything about everyone in our House,” Tom said rudely. “More importantly enough, you should know how rude it is to eavesdrop on others’ conversations, Nathair.”

“Please, you were speaking so loudly it was hardly listening,” Nathair said.

“Another thing to note, Harry, is that the boy is extremely dislikable,” Tom said. “Although I am surprised that you did not notice him until now, as he is a year above us.”

“And I am completely insulted,” Nathair said. “Please don’t listen to your boyfriend Harry, you’ll find that there are some wilds that I can teach you that he cannot.” The boy winked at Harry before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Harry leaned towards Tom and hissed, _“You want to control Slytherin House, remember? As well as we want Ron on our side. This boy can be the beginning. He is feminine, looks pretty, and should be Ron’s type physically. I believe I will befriend him. He will be the first to fall under our influence, and, with his help, Ron will fall to our side as well. He’s a year above us right? He must know the older Slytherins, have some connections we can use. Let’s use them, take control of Slytherin, use the entire House as our followers for when the old disappoint us.”_

 _“My, my, you impress me even more with each passing day, little snake,”_ Tom hissed back. _“Very well, befriend him, he will be the first of all to follow us.”_

The two shared a smile as the doors to the Great Hall opened and Professor McGonagall escorted the First Years down the Great Hall between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students. Tom smirked staring at them and said to Draco and Blaise, “In there are the youngest of my followers.”

The two just nodded as the four of them relaxed to watch the sorting. It happened the same as all other years, the first years were lined in front of the staff table, looking frightfully nervous as Professor McGonagall pulled out the Sorting Hat and its stool in front of them. The hat sang it’s song, which Harry often blocks out because of its horrible singing voice, and after the entire school cheers the sorting began. Harry clapped along with his House whenever one of the first years were sorted into Slytherin. When the final first year to be sorted (A Rose Zeller into Hufflepuff) Professor McGonagall took the sorting hat and stool away and Dumbledore stood up.

“To our newcomers, “ he said in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, “welcome! To our old hands—welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!”

There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his long beard over his shoulder so as to keep it out of the way of his plate—for food had appeared out of nowhere, so that the five long tables were groaning under joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread, sauces, and flagons of pumpkin juice.

“Has them all under his thumb, don’t they,” Xavier Nathair said at Harry, smiling slyly again. “I bet they would clap even if he said nonsense.”

“I take it you don’t like Dumbledore, Xavier?” Harry asked. He moved a bit closer to the feminine boy to talk with him.

“Like him? No,” Xavier hummed. “Me parents hated the man, personally.”

“Oh? They did?” Harry asked, interested.

“Yes,” Xavier nodded. “They were Slytherins too. Though they are both wizarding genealogists, they study family histories and traces family lines through generation and generation. It’s how we purebloods stay pure.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but I guess that’s why they weren’t recruited by the Dark Lord, such a shame really,” Xavier sighed, looking terribly lost. He shrugged at Harry, “Sorry for that.”

“Err…” Harry could see why nobody would like the boy, but it was his job to get him on their side.

“Anyway, that’s what I’m also interested in, genealogy,” Xavier continued in-between mouthfuls of food. “I’ve traced my family back to before Hogwarts even existed, if you would believe that.”

“That’s interesting,” Harry smiled. “Is it easy?”

“Well, it is with highly profile family,” Xavier nodded, “but not impossible with lesser known.”

“Really?” Harry asked, starting to get a little interested. “How do you find out?”

“Well, it would help to have names,” Xavier said. “Like your father’s name, their father’s names, so on and so on. After that, I start searching for records, since we’re at Hogwarts I search for if they went here, what house they were in and go on from there.”

“How long does this usually take?” Harry asked.

“Depends,” Xavier hummed. “If I’m _highly_ motivated, I can do it very quickly Harry.” He turned and smiled flirtatiously at Harry. “Why? Is there someone you want to look up?” He asked, his baby-blue eyes looking cold as he stared at the raven-haired. “Someone… special? Someone who has seen your… intimate acts?” Xavier moved closer so that their knees were touching. He lowered his head and whispered, “There has been rumors about you Harry, rumors about what you’ve done in first year. Are you still that flexible?”

“The only one who will know that is Daddy,” Harry whispered back. “And you will never be like him.”

Xavier sniggered and moved back. His smile brightened and the coldness from his eyes disappeared. “Then I’ll move extra fast on this request.”

 _What is even this boy,_ Harry wondered to himself. He kept his frown inside and distracted himself from eating from a plate that Tom filled for him. He made sure to take several bites, delaying the conversation as best as he could until Xavier looked at him expectantly. “Well Harry?”

Harry thought for a moment before saying, “Thomas Marvolo Riddle. Marvolo is Tom’s grandfather’s name on his mother’s side. Marvolo and Tom’s mother were wizards while his father was a muggle. I want to know everything about Tom’s mother’s side. Everything.”

Xavier smirked, his eyes glittering strangely. “Now that is more like it!” he said in a feminine tone. “It’s a deal Harry, give a few months—”

“You have a month,” Harry said, slowly gaining confidence. “One month. Tell me everything about Tom’s family in one month’s time.”

“Harry, a month? Are you insane—”

“If you really wanted your family to serve the Dark Lord, you would learn not to question those who speak Parseltongue,” Harry said aloofly. He turned so he was fully facing Xavier, his face emotionless except for his bored looking eyes. _“Give me the information in a month’s time,”_ he hissed.

He smirked when he saw a glimpse of fear on Nathair’s face and moved to return to Tom’s side, his focus back on his food.

“And what, little snake, was that about?” Tom asked. Harry saw that the teen was highly amused and smiled. “Just want to see how good he is,” the boy said innocently. “he said that he is a very good genealogist.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Harry nodded. “I’ve figured that I’ll test his skills. _I hope you don’t mind Daddy, but I’ve asked him to look into your past.”_ Harry changed effortlessly from English to Parseltongue that it did not phase Tom. Instead the teen chuckled and relaxed an arm around Harry’s waist, pulling him even closer.

“Such a good boy,” he murmured.

When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the hall was starting to creep upward again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to face the headmaster. Harry was feeling pleasantly drowsy in his Daddy’s arms now. He barely noticed and huge eyeroll Xavier Nathair gave. Harry settled down on Tom to listen to Dumbledore’s welcome speech of normal rule warnings and welcomes to the new staff when suddenly he was interrupted.

_“Hem. Hem.”_

Harry and Tom exchanged looks of confusion. Nobody interrupts Dumbledore’s speeches. Dumbledore whirled around to see Professor Umbridge standing and intending to make a speech. Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat back down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of the staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout’s eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair, and Professor McGonagall’s mouth was as thin as Harry had ever seen it.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Professor Umbridge simpered, “for those kind words of welcome. Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say! And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!”

She was talking to them as though they were five years old. Harry looked around and saw that no one was smiling.

“I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I’m sure we’ll be very good friends.

“The Ministry of Magic had always considered the education of young witches and wizard to be vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by out ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble professions of teaching.

“Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts had brought something new to the weighty task of growing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress’s sake must be discouraged, for our tired and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation must be made because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgement. Meanwhile, some old habits will retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded or outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfecting, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited.”

She sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though Harry noticed that several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. Harry looked up to see Tom frowning. “Will she be a problem Tom?” he whispered.

“I don’t know baby snake, I don’t know,” Tom frowned. “However, I hope you understand what she was talking about.”

“I do Tom,” Harry nodded. “The Ministry is interfering with Hogwarts, right?”

“That’s correct little snake,” Tom nodded. “But we’ll talk amore about this in private.” He pointed towards Xavier Nathair who did not even pretend not to be listening to them. He just smiled slyly at them and cocked his head to the side.

“Don’t worry boys,” he said, “I’ll be nice and get my job done in a month.”

“Hmm,” was all Tom had to say about the matter. As soon as they were dismissed, both he and Harry stood up and made the quick way down into the dungeons and, not even waiting to socialize, up into the fifth years’ dormitory.

Alone on Tom’s bed, Harry quickly closed the curtains and both boys took off their clothes, leaving them in only their underwear. Getting under the covers, the two curled against each other. They were silent and waited until the others came in and went to bed. They did not move, except for Tom’s hand which stroked Harry’s hair.

Once their dormmates were all asleep, Tom spoke, his voice rumbling inside his chest, against Harry’s ear where he laid. “Another year, my love, but this year will be different. I feel as though we have already made our first steps in multiple goals.”

Harry nodded and smiled, “With just one boy too. I feel like ordering him to look into your history was a good thing. It’s an excuse for me to be with him, get close to him, and point him in Ron’s direction when the time is right.”

“Do you think he’s even gay?”

“Of course, he is,” Harry nodded. “I am sure that he and Ron will click. Also, we will also have your family past, and an older year we can jump off of to get the others to follow you, Daddy.”

“And we have you to thank for that, my little snake,” Tom said. He bent to kiss the top of Harry’s head, which caused the smaller boy to purr.

“So, I’ll focus on Xavier while you get the others?” Harry asked.

“Yes, and after we have the older years, the younger will fall naturally,” Tom said.

“You’re so smart Daddy,” Harry giggled. “I love you.”

“I love you too little snake,” Tom smirked. “Now, I think I would like some service before we go to bed tonight.”

Harry smiled knowingly and rolled so he was on top of Tom. The couple smirked at each other and Tom placed his hand on Harry’s head, pushing and guiding him to go lower and lower where a hard, erect cock was waiting for him.

“Thank you for the gift Daddy,” Harry smiled, before he pulled Tom’s underwear down, releasing his thick cock, and began giving his Daddy the worship only he can give. When they were done, Tom gave Harry a deep kiss, Harry’s mouth still tasting of Tom’s seed, before both Daddy and boy drifted off to sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

The next day found Tom and Harry arriving early in the Great Hall. It was Tom’s idea, he wanted to see who of their House were usually the first to come to the Great Hall. “You see Harry, the first arrivers are of two types,” he explained as they made their way, Harry still yawning sleepily, “they are either overachievers, those who stride to become the top of their class and year, or they are outliners, those lonely few who has no friends, no acquaintances, and would rather sit in a spacious place like this then suffer their loneliness in the crowded common room.”

“So who do we go after?” Harry yawned as he poured himself a bowl of cereal.

“Both, naturally,” Tom said. “However, let us first examine our fellow early risers.”

Harry, still entirely sleepy, just nodded dimly as he began to eat, his head feeling heavy and eyes needing to be closed. Harry looked around and saw that there were a few at their table. The most recognizable one being Xavier Nathair from last night. He was a few benches away, a large looking tome next to him as he read and eat at the same time. There was also a couple of boys on the edge of the table, on the edge nearest to the door. Both did not look at each other or speak as they seemed lost in their own thoughts. “There aren’t many,” Harry yawned.

“Well, I am actually surprised,” Tom said. He looked at the three Slytherins and said, “you will handle Nathair, my little snake. I will make myself acquainted with those two. They seem like they both need a good shoulder to lean on.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded. He yawned one last time and took one last bite from his bowl of cereal before picking it up. Carrying it, he made his way to Nathair, and sitting down next to him. “It is way too early to be reading,” Harry said with a bit of distain.

“So says the boy who is up at the crack of dawn just to talk to me,” Xavier said.

“So what is it you’re reading?” Harry asked.

Xavier looked at Harry for a second before closing the book, keeping his finger in to keep his place, so Harry could see the title. It was a very thick book with seemingly endless pages. The cover and spine were a dark pink color, and on the cover there was nothing but the title in a cursive golden font which read _“The Ongoing Complete Genealogy of British Wizards.”_ Harry frowned at the title, wondering how something can be complete yet ongoing, as Xavier opened the book again to the page he was reading. Harry looked at the pages to see a family tree that seemed larger than life, with branches and roots that twisted and curved everywhere, connecting wizards from multiple families in an endlessly twisting web of roots. Xavier turned the page to reveal the continuation of the web of roots connection wizards with anyone and everyone it seemed. Xavier continued flipping through several pages until, finally, after twenty pages of the same family tree, text began. “That is the Potter family tree,” Xavier said. “As you see,” he flipped to the previous page and pointed at a name. Harry leaned forward to see it was his own, “it keeps getting added to constantly. Either by myself for my father or my grandfather, and so on and so forth. This book has been tracking families since the tenth century.”

“You mean this book is ten centuries old?” Harry asked.

“This one?” Xavier asked. “No, this one was made only a hundred years ago. The very old book, the one who has every information about the wizarding family that my family and others have collected, is under Ministry control. This one is one of five I think that my family have for personal and research use.”

“Personal use? You mean you actually just read that book for fun?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, why not,” Xavier shrugged. “History is fun. Especially when you can watch it repeat in real time. It also nice to know the dead families that all of us come from.”

“Dead families?” Harry asked, he was too tired to even begin to comprehend what Xavier is saying. He turned his attention to his cereal and took a large mouthful.

“Yes, dead families,” Xavier continued, oblivious to Harry’s tiredness and confusion. “Look at this!” He smiled. Harry figured that he was the first person to even ask the boy about his book, and instantly regretted it. Xavier turned back the pages to Harry’s family tree. “The Potters started with Linfred of Stinchcombe, who was known as ‘The Potterer’ by the muggles who thought he was just a lovable man who enjoyed pottering around in his garden. Through the years the nickname became corrupted into Potter, which is where your surname came from.”

“Huh… interesting,” Harry said in a bored tone. _Tom should be the one here, he would actually be twice as interested into this as I am,_ he thought to himself.

“Also, your family contributed to the death of an early wizarding family in the male line,” Xavier said.

“Interesting…”

“I know! Look… here,” Xavier pointed to a small line that extended from the Potters near Linfred’s name. “This is Iolanthe Peverell, who married your ancestor Hardwin Potter, Linfred’s son. Iolanthe’s family name Peverell died early on, but living on through your family line. Doesn’t that sound incredible? Knowing that dead family names live on through you without knowing about it? I mean, think about it, who knows what the Peverell Family did! Their unknown potential lives on in you Harry! And who knows who else.”

Harry stared at Xavier and barely managed a hum as he forced himself to stay awake. “What about Tom’s family?” he asked.

“Him?”

“Yes, our deal from last night,” Harry said. “You have a month.”

“Yes…. Well, there’s a problem,” Xavier frowned.

“What problem?” Harry sighed.

“He’s not in this book,” Xavier said simply. “Look.” He closed the book again and opened it towards near the end of the book. Harry barely leaned forward to see the page titled “ _Witches and Wizards born in One-Thousand-Nine-Hundred and Eighty.”_

“I’ve read this section twelve times last night, going a year behind, and a year ahead but he just isn’t in this book,” Xavier said. “I thought that this might be because he was muggleborn, but you told me personally that that is not the case, that he is a half-blood. So I do not understand why he is not here. Unless, of course, you are lying to me.”

“Lying to you? Why would I lie to you?” Harry asked. “I told you that he is half-blood. He is my age, and he should be in that book. Look harder.”

“Harry, you don’t understand, if I cannot find him here that it is extremely difficult for me to—”

“I don’t care,” Harry interrupted. “It seems you have forgotten who you are talking to. I am the heir of Slytherin, you know I can speak Parseltongue, and so can Tom. You should be begging to serve us, and this is how. Find the information I need in a month’s time or face my disappointment. If needed, I will spare help in your cause.”

Xavier frowned. Harry smirked victoriously, but Xavier’s words through him off, “I wanted to speak to you about that, your parseltongue ability. Parseltongue is a hereditary trait, meaning that it is passed down from one ancestor to the next starting from Salazar Slytherin. However… Harry, you are not a descendant of Slytherin, there is no clear line between you and the Founder of Hogwarts. So you shouldn’t have the ability to speak Parseltongue, but you do. How is that possible?”

Harry’s smirk quickly turned into a frown. “Excuse me?”

“I said you are not the heir of Slytherin,” Xavier said. “In fact, no one should be, his line died with the Gaunt Family according to my book, and they died sixty years ago.”

Harry’s frown deepened, _That cannot be right,_ he thought to himself. He stood up quickly, leaving his bowl, and looked down at Xavier. “A month,” he said again. “I’ll send a friend of mine to keep you on track.” He quickly turned and made his way to Tom at the end of the table, catching the ending of something one of the two outcasts said,

“… ever understand me, Riddle. Most people thought I was cellophane.”

“Me too,” the other said.

Tom smiled friendlily and said, “Well, now you know if anything is bothering you, anything at all, you can always come to me. I want to take care of all of Slytherin, guide you all like I do my Harry, give you rules and structure. A place to belong.”

“Thank you, sir,!” the other said.

“I would like that very much,” the first said.

“Excuse me…” Harry interrupted.

“Ah! And here is my little snake,” Tom smiled. “Both of us need to finish eating, but remember, come to me whenever you are both in trouble, or needing guidance.”

“Yes sir!” both Slytherins said, looking extremely pleased with themselves. They began talking to themselves as Harry and Tom returned to their original seats, Tom chuckling.

“Outcasts always are looking for somewhere to belong, and a strong figure to tell them what to do,” he said. “If I didn’t know better, I would dare say I’ve just became their Father.”

“How amusing,” Harry said.

“How did it go on your end?” Tom asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry frowned. “I’ve found out some things, Xavier is completely stuck, said he cannot find you in his great book of families. Even with the full name I’ve given him and the fact that your middle name is your grandfather’s.”

“Well, was he looking hard enough?” Tom asked as he and Harry sat down, the older teen preparing their full breakfast.

“Supposedly,” Harry said. “The book has pages on all wizards born on what year and he said he had read the page twenty times or so but couldn’t find your name.”

“That would make sense, after all I was technically born seventy years ago,” Tom said. “What else?” he asked as he filled Harry’s plate with eggs and toast.

“This one makes me a bit worried,” Harry said, “According to his book, neither of us can be Parselmouths. It is a skill inherited from Slytherin himself, and neither of us are his direct heir.”

“Except we can, so we must be,” Tom said. He turned to his bag and reached in it, pulling out a dark-leather bound book with yellow pages. “We can always ask him, force him to answer for us,” he said.

“We can?” Harry frowned, “but you told me in our second year never to use him.”

“Both of us have to be related to Slytherin,” Tom said. “He might know the answer.”

“And what if he lies? Or tries to use us?” Harry asked. “Look, Xavier’s book has to be wrong.”

“Nevertheless, little snake, I want to make sure,” Tom said. “Give me a quill.” Harry sighed, but ruffled in his bag to pull out a quill and ink.

Tom took them and opened the first page of the diary, dipped the quill into the ink and wrote, _“Have you ever told anyone that you are a Parseltongue?”_

The words slowly drained into the book, leaving the page clean, until the ink began to reappear, shaping themselves into different words.

 _“Three years you’ve kept silence, only to speak now,”_ the Diary wrote. _“Why is that? Having trouble, other me?”_

 _“Answer my question or I will burn you,”_ Tom threatened.

 _“Such temper, I can see that the boy has had his influence on you. I only hope his hole is tight and worth the trouble,”_ the diary replied. _“To answer, no, the only one who knows we can communicate with snakes is Dumbledore. My servants knew nothing.”_

“Servants?” Harry frowned.

“I think those must be his ‘friends,’” Tom said. “Truly a pathetic being.”

“But we’ll be a better Dark Lord than him,” Harry whispered.

“Absolutely,” Tom smirked. “However, that does answer one thing. Nobody knows that I, we, are descendants of Slytherin directly because the other me kept it a secret.”

“There’s still one thing,” Harry frowned. “If we are asking the dairy, maybe we can learn more about your past. I don’t know how much information it’ll give, and I don’t know how much we can write without it trying to suck our souls out like it did Ginny, but maybe we can ask it one more question, give us something to influence Nathair towards.”

“What are you planning?”

“Can I please have the quill?” Harry asked, his hand out.

Amused, Tom nodded and gave Harry the quill and slid the diary to Harry. Harry dip the quill in the ink and wrote, _“Who is your mother’s father? Tell me his full name.”_

The ink disappeared, only to come back a second later. _“Ahh, the boy. You must be a talented poof to make the other me feel. Or maybe, he is just like me and only using you for your holes. Either way, enjoy it while it lasts, whelp.”_

 _“Answer my question, Riddle, while Tom will burn your diary I will strip away every page,”_ Harry wrote angrily. And to prove his point, he grabbed a random page and pulled, hard, a loud tearing sound filling his ears.

The diary seemed to laugh back at Harry, as the words seem highly amused, _“Less a whelp and more a whore. Very well, my grandfather’s name is Marvolo Gaunt. Now please continue writing to me, I am very lonely and you must taste so delicious.”_

Harry closed the diary and gave it back to Tom, who dropped it in his bag. “Marvolo Gaunt,” Tom repeated. He frowned, lost in thought, and shook his head. “The name doesn’t sound familiar to me,” he said. “You?”

“No,” Harry yawned. “Honestly though I barely remember what happened this morning, I’m so tired. … Can I have some coffee please?”

“No,” you’re not allowed, Harry,” Tom said. Harry pouted, looking annoyed. Giving another yawn, he said, “Sounds familiar though, guess I’ve read it in a history book or somewhere. If I can’t have coffee, can you make me a cup of tea? I need to eat to stay away.”

Tom laughed and shook his head, “Such a precious boy, little snake,” he said.

“Thanks,” Harry said when Tom handed him his tea. He took a sip just as the doors to the Great Hall opened and a flood of students walked in, Draco, Blaise, and Theo among them, the three Slytherins taking their place around Harry and Tom. Tom and Harry looked at Theo, but said nothing as the boy sat next to Blaise.

“Morning Harry, Tom, how are you two today?” Blaise smiled, for some reason he looked extremely satisfied.

“Tired,” Harry complained. “Tom made us get here extra early just to talk to a few people.”

“Why?” Draco asked, looking at Tom.

“To begin my control over our House,” Tom shrugged.

“He had me talk to that Nathair guy,” Harry complained.

“What did you talk about?” Draco asked.

“Uhh…” Harry closed his eyes and rattled his tired brain. “Honestly I don’t remember. He was sprouting on about family histories and nonsense like how Tom and I couldn’t be related to Slytherin.”

“But both of you can speak Parseltongue,” Theodore Nott interrupted. He looked a bit embarrassed, “sorry, Blaise explained some things to me… and I might have overheard you two speaking the language.”

“Then you would understand how it is nonsense,” Tom said.

“Still,” Harry went on, “I’ll have Ron help him. We usually have most our classes with Gryffindor somehow, so I’ll speak to him then.”

“Or you can talk to him right now,” Tom said, he pointed to the Gryffindor Table where Ron was currently stuffing his face with sausage, sitting surrounded by his fellow years. “You can point out our girly-boy that way.”

“Yeah, think I’ll do that,” Harry yawned.

“Please stop doing that,” Tom said.

“Bite me,” Harry snapped back, standing up. He started to make his way towards Gryffindor Table, ignoring the odd looks he was given to both by students and staff. He did, however, catch a nastily curious look from Professor Umbridge. “Hello Ron,” he said when he was near his friend.

“Hiya Harry, how’s your morning doing?” Ron asked, he and his friends turning their attention to them. Harry smiled politely and waved at them.

“What’s the friendly snake doing here without his keeper?” Seamus Finnigan asked. Harry giggled and said with a wink, “This snake is curious if there are bigger snakes hiding around here. You know a place?”

Seamus snorted.

“Anyway Ron, can I ask you a huge favor, please?” Harry said.

“What is it?” Ron asked.

Harry smiled and silently asked if he could sit down, the boys made room for him and Harry sat next to Ron. “See that guy bent over a book?” Harry said, pointing to Xavier Nathair. The group looked at the older boy for a moment.

“That’s a boy?” Seamus said.

“Looks girly,” Dean nodded.

Harry saw Ron lick his lips and smirked. “Yes, he is a boy, but he has a very girly feeling about him. He’s a year older than us Ron, and a bit of a bitch really, but I have him doing something really important for me and Tom.”

“What is it?” Ron asked.

Harry leaned closer to his friend and whispered, “He’s looking into Tom’s history. Tom’s sensitive about it, and we want to know everything. His family’s business is family history and the like, anyway I’ve given him a month to do it and he’s already showing signs of slacking off.”

“So, what do you want me to?” Ron frowned. “I don’t know anything about that stuff.”

“I know, and I’m not asking you to do that Ron,” Harry said. “What I want is for you to give him a _firm_ helping hand, if you know what I mean.” He waited, giving Ron a suggestive smile. Ron’s eyes shot open after a moment and gave Harry the same grin. “He’s exactly your type Ron,” Harry continued. “Girly boy. Sure, his personality is… weird, but I’m sure you can improve it, I can even give you a few ideas.”

“He is cute…” Ron muttered.

“I bet even cuter in a dress,” Harry whispered. “Or on your bed… your lap…”

“I uh…” Ron flushed, his eyes stuck on Nathair. “Can you please don’t put those thoughts in my head Harry? Now’s not a good time…”

Harry giggled, but smiled softly. “Alright, but just say that you will help me, will you Ron?”

“Yeah, sure I’ll help you,” Ron nodded.

“Great! You’re the best Ron,” Harry cheered. He looked at the other boys and winked as he stood up. Patting Ron’s back a couple times, Harry returned back to Slytherin Table, smirking to himself as he watched Ron continue to stare at Xavier Nathair. _It would be very funny to see him in a dress,_ Harry thought to himself, causing himself to laugh, his mood and awareness increasing significantly just as the Head of Houses began to hand out their schedules.

“Oh look, Monday with the Gryffindors,” Tom drawled out. “How surprising.”

“History of Magic, double Potions, and double Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Harry said. “And I have Divination!”

“Should have done Ancient Runes like me, little snake,” Tom said. “That is what you get for being lazy and taking the easy class out.”

Harry shot Tom a glare but said nothing.

“We’ll probably learn nothing in Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Draco said, looking at his own schedule. “Umbridge is the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, second in command officially. Nothing about that screams Defense knowledge, or even Dark Arts knowledge.” He reached down to fiddle with his locket Harry and Tom gave him as he continued talking, “This is really inconvenient for us considering it’s our fifth year.”

“Fifth year? What’s so special about that?” Harry frowned.

“Fifth year is O.W.L. year, love,” Tom said. “We have exams at the end of the year.”

“So?”

“Exams that will influence what classes we can take next year,” Tom continued. _“So on top of everything little snake, we need to make sure to pass our exams, if we want to be better Dark Lords.”_

“Oh… ok,” Harry nodded.

“What did you say?” Blaise frowned.

Tom looked at his friend and smirked knowingly, “That is a very rude question, Zabini. There are conversations that only Harry and I can understand. Isn’t that right, my little snake?”

“Yes Tom,” Harry nodded.

“Still Harry, I am expecting you to put in equal, if not more effort into your studies this year,” Tom said, “or else there will be punishment. The same goes to you three as well.” He added, looking at Draco, Blaise, and Theo, all three of them paled. “Theodore, you’ve chosen to sit with me, and so I hold you to the same responsibilities as the others. Understand?”

“Y-Yes sir,” Theodore blurted out.

Tom looked at Harry and said in Parseltongue, _“You see Harry, everybody wants to submit, even if they do not know it yet. They might not be as open in their submissiveness like you or Draco, but deep down, they know that they are looking for a powerful wizard to take control. I will be that wizard.”_

 _“I know you will be Daddy,”_ Harry hissed back, smiling, _“and I will do everything I can to help you get there.”_

 _“I know, my little snake, and you have already done so much,”_ Tom hissed adoringly. _“I love you very much Harry.”_

 _“And I love you Tom,”_ Harry said. The two moved close and shared a gentle, lazy kiss. Tom moved his hand to Harry’s inner thigh and squeezed.

Their talk turned light as the five of them finished their breakfast and continued on to their first day of classes. Harry’s mind was now fully awake, however there was a strange feeling that he was forgetting something. That feeling did not last, however, as they entered History of Magic where Professor Binn’s wheezing, droning voice sent him back to a sleep-like state throughout the entire class, leaving him with an unknowing sense of dread as Professor Umbridge’s class ticked closer and closer with every second.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Harry ran into Nathair right outside the door to Professor Umbridge’s classroom. “Hello Harry,” Xavier Nathair said.

“Hello Nathair,” Harry said. He stared at the older Slytherin and something clicked inside his head. “Xavier, I’ve just remembered something.”

“What is it?”

“I’ve been thinking about something you said,” Harry said. “About the last heir of Slytherin—one second, Ron!” Harry turned just as he saw his friend walk down the corridor with Hermione and the other Gryffindors. Harry pulled him out of the small crowd, waving to his friends, and turned back to Xavier Nathair. “Ron, this is Xavier, Xavier, Ron. My friend here is going to help you with your task, alright? He knows all about it.”

“Great,” Xavier said, though he was frowning slightly. Ron, however, was openly staring at him with a dazed sort of look in his eyes. Harry couldn’t help but snicker at this, smiling to himself as he imagined what a great match the two will make. “Anyway, what did you want to ask about, Harry?”

“Yes, you said something about the Heir of Slytherin lineage that’s wrong,” Harry smiled. “I want you to repeat it for me.”

Xavier looked annoyed but sighed as he rolled his eyes. “In case you weren’t paying attention the first time, Potter, there is no way either you or Tom Riddle can be the heir of Slytherin. The last direct line of descendants was the Gaunt Family, and they all died years ago with no descendants to speak of.”

Harry frowned, “Tell me their names,” he commanded, his voice trying to sound cold like Tom’s.

“I beg your pardon!” Xavier said, taking offense of Harry’s snappish tone.

“I told you to tell me their names, Nathair,” Harry said. He took a step forward and whispered in Xavier’s ear, “There are two ways to do this Nathair, remember it does not matter if you do not like my attitude, I told you that you have a month. Now, either you tell me now, or my friend Ron will give you a truly… painful experience. You might like it, you might not, but he will. Understand?”

Xavier stared at Harry, his face straight as he said, “You do not scare me, Harry Potter.”

Harry’s eyes darken as his lips formed a disappointed frown. “I see,” he simply said. “Then,” he said in a louder voice, “I don’t have any need to talk with you. Ron will see you later.”

“Fine then… see you later, Ronald Weasley,” Xavier said, looking at Ron and purring his name. He laughed as Ron blushed slightly and he turned and walked away. Harry span on his heels to face Ron, “Right, Ron here’s what I need you to do. Remember how I told you he needs a firm hand?”

“Yeah,” Ron nodded.

“Well,” Harry said, “It looks like that he will need a harder hand than I’ve thought of before. So, when you and Xavier work together later today, I want you to hold nothing back. Assert your dominance immediately. Don’t worry, he will love it.”

A strange sort of smile appeared on Ron’s face, it looked as though he was a little kid just told he could open his Christmas presents early. Harry licked his lips and wondered what exactly his friend was planning. “Remember Ron, Tom’s full name is Tom Marvolo Riddle,” he said. “Focus on the middle name, Marvolo, his mother gave him his grandfather’s name. Also… Tom is much older than you think. Tom and I both speak Parseltongue, you know that is true. Alright?”

“Y-yeah Harry,” Ron nodded.

“Excellent,” Harry smiled. He felt an arm going around his waste and leaned back against the familiar body of his Daddy. “Hello Tom,” he mewled as he turned to give Tom’s cheek a kiss.

“Hello my little snake, what were you two talking about?” Tom asked.

“Oh nothing,” Harry shrugged. “Just giving Ron some dating tips is all.”

“I see,” Tom chuckled. “Then shall we all head inside and see how horrible of a teacher Professor Umbridge will be?”

“Yes Daddy,” Harry nodded, and the three of them entered Professor Umbridge’s classroom, splitting off with Ron as they join their fellow Slytherins. Professor Umbridge was already seated at the teacher’s desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan on the night before and the black velvet bow on the top of her head.

The class was quiet as it entered the room; Professor Umbridge was, as yet, an unknown quantity and nobody knew yet how strict a disciplinarian she was likely to be.

“Well, good afternoon, class!” she said when finally, the whole class has sat down.

A few people mumbled, “Good afternoon,” in reply.

“Tut, tut,” Professor Umbridge said. “That won’t do, now will it? I should like you, please, to reply ‘Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,’ One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!”

“Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,” the chanted back at her.

“There, now,” Professor Umbridge said sweetly. “That wasn’t too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out.”

Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the order “wands away” had never yet been followed by a lesson they have enjoyed. Harry shoved his wand back into his bag and pulled out quill, ink, and parchment. Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, pulled out her wand, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once.

**_Defense Against the Dark Arts  
A Return to Basic Principles_ **

“Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn’t it?” Professor Umbridge stated, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. “The constant changing of teachers, many of who do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year.

“You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy this down.”

“Ahh,” Tom muttered as Professor Umbridge tapped the blackboard again. He leaned towards Harry and whispered, _“This might be good or bad for us in regards to our goals. Mind your temper.”_

 _“Don’t tell me that, I know how to stay calm,”_ Harry muttered as he looked at the course aims for the class.

  1. **_Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic_**
  2. **_Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can be legally used_**
  3. **_Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use_**



_“Nothing about using magic, have you noticed little snake?”_ Tom hissed quietly to Harry, who nodded.

 _“That’s awful,”_ Harry frowned. He looked at Tom for a moment.

 _“Yes, however… we must make sure not to lose our temper, Harry, understand? Do not make yourself stand out,”_ Tom said.

_“Wasn’t planning on it.”_

The class was boring. All they were assigned was to read from Wilbert Slinkhard’s _Defensive Magical Theory_ which taught Harry nothing at all. However he obeyed Tom and kept quiet about it, keeping his head down throughout the entire lesson, even when the Gryffindors, more specially Hermione Granger, interrupted class to ask about actually using defensive spells. It was hard, especially when Cedric was pulled up. Harry had to squeeze his eyes shut as Professor Umbridge went on how Cedric’s death was just a “freak accident.”

He had to wait until he and Tom were safe in the Slytherin Dungeons to explode. “That horrible woman!” he roared. “How could she just stand there like that saying that Cedric Diggory’s death was an accident when she knows—everyone knows—that it was V—”

“Harry!”

Tom glared at him. Harry stopped short to realize that half of the common room was staring at him. Harry looked at them for a moment and, giving a sneer, said, “What are you all looking at?”

“Follow me,” Tom ordered, and the two left to their empty dormitory. “Sit,” Tom commanded, pointing to his bed. Harry sat down silently, however it was obvious that he was still fuming. “I know that you are angry,” Tom said, “but you should not have exploded like that in the middle of the common room.”

“I was going to say Voldemort,” Harry said. “I’m not stupid enough to let go of our cover and say that Pettigrew killed him—even though he is rotting away in Azkaban!”

“Yes, about that,” Tom frowned. “I know it is only the first day of school, however we shouldn’t forget our other duties.”

“You mean with the Death Eaters,” Harry said.

“Yes, little snake,” Tom nodded. “It has been some time since we’ve had a meeting. I believe we should hold one tonight.”

“Tonight?” Harry asked, “how so? How are we going to meet them?”

“We will leave at midnight,” Tom said. “One of the fireplaces here has to be free to use. If not, we will find a place that will give us access to outside of Hogwarts, maybe use the Marauder’s Map if we are desperate to go to Hogsmeade to get to Malfoy Manor. Of course, we will also bring with us a fellow student, to show their parents that we can harm them at any time.”

“Who do you have in mind?” Harry asked.

“Hmm,” Tom thought for a moment,” Perhaps Crabbe or Goyle, those two look to follow any orders given to them. Including the ones to stay away from us.”

“Oh yeah… you know, I totally forgot they existed,” Harry shrugged. “So shouldn’t we go out now to look for where to go? I think it would be better to know how we are getting out of Hogwarts beforehand then just wander around with the idiots.”

“An excellent idea Harry,” Tom nodded. “Come, we have some time before dinner, let’s see what we can find out—and bring the map just in case.”

 

Ron and Xavier were in the library, the gigantic tome that Ron saw the girly-boy reading earlier this morning sitting open in front of them. Close up, Ron can take the time to notice and admire some of Xavier Nathair’s more beautiful features. His black hair flow down to the bottom of his neck like rivers, his eyes were large, doe-like and an innocent light blue that held mirth and rebellion that Ron couldn’t wait to control. His lips were plump and pink, reminding Ron of a peach that he just wants to eat.

“So, you are here to help me, huh?” Xavier Nathair said in a bored voice. “What are you? A Weasley or something?”

Ron’s eyes narrowed. If he was here to keep an eye on this Slytherin and fix his behavior, he better start early. Sitting fully straight up, he glared down at the older Slytherin and said, “You will either call me ‘Ron’ when we are with others, or ‘Sir.’”

“And why would I, Weasley?” Xavier sneered. “You’re younger than me, and a poor Gryffindor Blood traitor. Why should I even think of listening to you—Ow!” Ron had slapped the back of his head hard. “What the hell?”

“Harry told me to give you a firm hand,” Ron said. “Now, we’re in the library, what do you call me?”

Xavier’s eyes grew sharp as he glared at Ron. Ron leaned back and just stared at him in a bored manner while secretly he was thinking of all the fun he and Xavier could have if they hit it off. Fun things that Ron was too afraid to even think of doing with girls.

After five minutes of staring at each other, Ron smirked victoriously as Xavier sighed and looked down at his book muttering, “Ron.”

“Good,” Ron said. “Now, tell me Xavier Nathair,” he rolled Xavier’s name around his tongue, liking the feel, “what is it that my friend told you to do? Hmm?”

Xavier glared at Ron. “Your friend Potter wishes to know everything little thing about Tom Marvolo Riddle, however I will tell you the exact thing I’ve told him: This boy is not in his book! There is no way that he can be in this book just as there is no way he can be a Parseltongue.”

“But they both are,” Ron stated.

“And how do you know?”

“Because I do,” Ron said. “Now open the book and show me exactly why neither of them can be Parseltongues.” Xavier shot Ron another glare, but Ron raised his hand threateningly. They were in a corner of the library, surrounded by shelves of books so there was no one to watch them. Xavier continued to glare, so Ron brought his hand down, but instead of smacking Nathair in the back of his head, he rested it on the back of Nathair’s neck, holding rather tightly. “I like you, you’re cute, I hope that we can get closer Nathair,” Ron whispered, “However, boy, I need you to do as I say when I say it, okay? Now without glaring or smart comments, show me why.”

Ron swore he could hear a small moan coming from Nathair, but did not act on it as the older boy opened his book to a large family tree. “This is Salazar Slytherin’s tree,” Nathair said. “As you can see, the last direct descendants, those who would have the ability to speak to snakes, are the Gaunt Family. Marvolo and his two children, Merope and Morfin. Merope died first more than sixty years ago, then her father and lastly Morfin in Azkaban.”

Ron frowned at that and pointed at Marvolo’s name. “There’s Tom’s grandfather then,” he said, shrugging.

“No, that can’t be!” Xavier said, looking extremely angry. “It is not that simple!”

“Why?” Ron asked.

“Because look at the dates Weasley!” Xavier yelled, earning him a sharp look as Ron squeezed the back of his neck hard. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Because that’s Tom’s grandfather right there, yeah? Harry told me he’s older than he looks,” Ron shrugged. “Not sure what it means, but there’s Marvolo, and he’s a descendant of Slytherin.”

Nathair did his best to turn and give Ron a glare, “Even considering that, _Sir_ , that would leave Tom to be in his sixties!” he said, slurring the word ‘Sir.’

Ron ignored that little insult for now and said, “So? Dumbledore is way more than a hundred years old. Besides,” he began to lie, “I know things that you don’t. Is that name brought up anywhere else?”

“What? Marvolo? No,” Xavier said.

“Then that’s Riddle’s grandfather,” Ron said with a certaincy. “Got it, boy?”

“Yes Sir—Ow!”

“Don’t be sarcastic with me,” Ron said.

“That all you can do? Squeeze my neck, Sir?” Xavier challenged Ron. Ron gave him an uncharacteristic sneer and keeping his hand on the back of Xavier’s neck. “Trust me, I can do so much more baby, and I think you would like it a lot.” He was close enough to Xavier’s ear that he could kiss it, so instead he opened his mouth and bit down on Xavier’s earlobe hard before nibbling it, earning him a shriek of pain. But Xavier did not call out for help, and nobody came. Ron smirked as he felt the older boy melting in his touch.

“I think you should get your ears pierced,” Ron muttered. “It would make you look so much prettier.”

“Asshole,” Xavier muttered. Ron chuckled and shook his head as he returned to sitting in his chair properly.

“Now what? Marvolo Gaunt is Tom’s grandfather,” Ron said.

“Fine! Going off that improbable fact I need to learn all about the Gaunt Family, how they died, where they lived, etc. I’ll have to write to my father for those stuff. I will also have to see which other families Tom is in direct line to, however I keep telling you Ronald Weasley, that this is not possible, Tom would be too old if he was really related to them, he would be in his sixties.”

“Who knows,” Ron shrugged. “Maybe magic happened and he became frozen in time or something—you don’t know that. However when I tell you that is his grandfather, then that is his grandfather, boy, ok?”

“Fine, yeah sure if it’s to stop you annoying me,” Xavier said.

“Good,” Ron said with a victorious grin. Figuring he should continue this winning streak, and starting to feel a high of emotions, he smiled at Xavier and moved his hand from the back of his neck to around his shoulders, “So, got any plans on Hogsmeade?”

“No, why?”

“Wanna go on a date?”

Xavier stared at Ron, completely shocked at his question and sighed, “Yeah, why not. Sounds like fun,” he muttered. Ron smirked and relaxed in his chair as Xavier, looking extremely annoyed, bent over his large tome of a book as he began researching about the Gaunt Family. Ron stared at the small form of Xavier and his mind drifted off to dresses and other feminine stuff he could dress the Slytherin in. His cock got excited at the ideas, and the redhead smiled as he closed his eyes and thought of how he would put his plans to actions.

 

It was rather too easy for Tom and Harry to convince both Crabbe and Goyle to follow them out of the Slytherin dungeons after curfew. Their search earlier that day proved fruitless, so the two agreed that it would be best to sneak them out into Hogsmeade. Harry led the way using the Marauder’s Map to make sure the four do not run into any prefects or teachers. He guided the three to the secret passage on the third floor behind the statue of a one-eyed witch. “Do not talk,” Tom ordered when they were all in the passage way.

“Where are we going?” Crabbe stupidly asked.

Tom turned on his heel and stabbed his wand against Crabbe’s throat, his eyes cold and cruel-looking as he warned, “I told you not to talk, understand?”

Crabbe whimper but the two nodded dimly. “Good,” Tom said, and he continued walking, his wand in a tight grip. The four were silent as Harry led them through the secret passage. It slopped downwards and soon the stone was replaced with dirt and their footsteps became muffled. Crabbe and Goyle walked along dimly as Harry pocketed his map and lit his wand, lighting the earthly tunnel. He looked over his shoulder to talk with Tom, but one sharp look from him told Harry that they ought to be quiet.

For twenty minutes they walked until finally the tunnel began slopping upwards until finally they’ve come across a ladder. Tom turned to the two other Slytherins and said again, “Do not make a sound.”

“There should be a fireplace here in the basement,” Harry whispered to Tom. “I remember seeing it whenever we snuck in here.”

Tom nodded and turned to Crabbe and Goyle. “You two will follow Harry. If you try any funny business, I will strike you down.” The two looked confused but nodded as Harry began climbing the ladder.

The top of the ladder was a trapdoor which Harry slowly pushed open. The basement of Honeydukes was dark and empty. He squinted his eyes and stayed very still as he listened, all he could hear was the creaking of the ladder underneath him. He looked down and whispered, “Clear” before silently pushing the trapdoor all the way open and climbed out. All he could see was crates piled high on each other and a single fireplace. He searched the room for floo powder as Crabbe and Goyle climbed into the basement, followed by Tom, who closed the trapdoor.

Harry found the floo powder stored in an old boot for some reason, and carried the boot to Crabbe to hold. “We are heading to Malfoy Manor,” he instructed the two goons. “Understand?”

Goyle nodded while Crabbe stared at Harry with his fat troll face for a moment before nodding as well. “Good, I will go first, followed by you two and Tom coming last. If you do anything funny, or draw attention to us, you will be punished,” Harry said darkly.

Tom grinned as Crabbe and Goyle shared scared looks.

Harry pulled a handful of Floo Powder from the boot and moved to the fireplace. “Malfoy Manor!” he said clearly as he through the floo powder down. Green flames shot up one second, and Harry felt himself spinning as his vision became blurred before closing his eyes.

He waited for the sensation to stop before opening his eyes to see himself stepping into the grand and lavishly furnished welcoming room of Malfoy Manor. He stepped out of the fireplace and turned and waited. A few seconds later Crabbe and Goyle fumbled out of the fireplace through the green flames while Tom walked elegantly out of it, whipping his wand and causing Goyle to scream in pain. “He thought it was funny Crabbe sneezed halfway through and laughed,” Tom said in an annoyed voice. He looked around the welcoming room and sneered. “Harry do you remember the way to the room we used last time?”

“Yes,” Harry nodded.

“Good. Take them there, _and tie them up. Have the elves do it if you have to,”_ Tom ordered.

Harry nodded and turned to Crabbe and Goyle, “Follow me,” he said.

“What are we doing here?” Crabbe asked.

“Shut up,” Harry sneered, “Tom told you to stay quiet.”

The two Slytherins frowned but stayed quiet as they followed Harry out of the welcoming room and into a large hall. Harry stopped for a moment before walking towards a doorway that led to a corridor that looked somewhat familiar. They walked it’s length and found themselves in a dining hall where a long table surrounded by chairs and a large crystal chandelier took up most of the space. “Sit down,” Harry ordered, pointing to two of the seats.

Crabbe and Goyle sat down in the two nearest seats as Harry walked around, trying to figure out how he was supposed to summon the house-elves here. He tried snapping. Nothing. Tapping his heel twice against the floor. Nothing. Clearing his throat? Didn’t work. Nor did rapping against a wall or door or table. Annoyed, Harry called out, “House elves!” only to again gain nothing.

Then he heard laughter. It was a small simple dumb chuckling and he turned to see Crabbe and Goyle laughing with each other, their laughs short and trollish, more like heavy breathing than laughing. “Potter can’t even summon house-elves!” one of them laughed.

“Stupid half-blood!”

Harry could feel his temper rising. Before he knew what he was doing, his wand was out and he aimed it at Goyle. He did not know what he said as his voice was a mixture of raspy and hisses but a green spell shot out of Harry’s wand and struck Goyle center in his chest. There was a loud and terrible scream as his night robes started to catch on fire with a green flame. Harry found that he could not put down his arm, but even more shockingly that he did not want to put it down as the green flame ate away at Goyle’s shirt before marking his skin, leaving a blacken area. Harry kept the spell going and watched with an odd satisfaction as the blackened area continued to spread across Goyle’s chest, looking more of an ashy bark than burnt skin. There was no disgusting smell, in fact there was no smell at all as Goyle’s screams continued to fill the room.

Then the room opened, and Tom walked in, followed by Mr. Malfoy dressed in his own night robe. “What in the world—”

Harry finally ended the spell and stared at his work. Goyle’s entire chest had gone from a pudgy pale flesh to what looked like a burnt bark. Goyle stared at it as well in shock as his hand moved hesitantly to touched it. It still acted like flesh, yet from the way Goyle was freaking out Harry knew that it must have felt totally different. “Why are you torturing Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle in my dining hall, Potter?” Mr. Malfoy demanded.

“He laughed at me, I was trying to summon your house elves, Malfoy,” Harry said coldly. For some reason he found he could not find any guilt or warmth within him. Instead his body was being filled by malevolent feelings and thoughts. It excited him. “Would you be so kind?” he drawled.

Mr. Malfoy frowned disapprovingly but snapped his fingers. Three house-elves appeared instantly. “There,” he sighed, tired. “Now if you excuse me, I was sleeping before our Lord rudely awoken me.”

“No, not so face Lucius,” Tom said. “I still need you. Sit down,” he indicated towards a chair.

“Ordered like a common house-elf in my own home,” Mr. Malfoy muttered angrily as he took his seat.

Tom and Harry turned to the three house-elves. “Tie them up,” Harry ordered, pointing at Crabbe and Goyle, “I don’t want them to be able to move.”

“And remove the dining table, leaving Harry and mine chairs from the last meeting,” Tom said.

The house-elves immediately got to work. Rope appeared and quickly tied Crabbe and Goyle to their chairs before they could fight or run away. The table and rest of the chairs disappeared, except for the two Crabbe and Goyle were tied down in and the one Mr. Malfoy was sitting on looking utterly annoyed. “You could not have done this at a better time, Potter?” he drawled. “It is midnight.”

“The perfect time then, for a Dark Lord to summon his faithful,” Tom snickered. He turned to face the same throne-like chair he had ordered for himself He called for the torches to be extinguished except for one so the room was pulled into an almost darkness.

“What if Snape comes to this one?” Harry asked. “Should I be hiding like last time? I don’t have the cloak with me.”

“That is a good idea,” Tom nodded. “Move Harry’s chair somewhere where he can’t be seen! And put gags into Crabbe and Goyle,” he ordered the house-elves. They quickly moved Harry’s chair away into the shadows and both Crabbe and Goyle’s mouths were magically shut.

Harry stood on his toes and kissed Tom on the mouth, “For luck,” he whispered before moving to his chair completely covered in shadows. Tom tapped his wand against his robes and transfigured them into a long black robe with a large hood that hid his face. He moved to sit down at his throne and adjusted his robe before looking at Mr. Malfoy.

“It’s time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So remember when my depression took a hit on me and slowed everything to a grinding halt? Guess what there was a sequel! So sorry for that. Anyway, if you guys would like PLEASE leave a review they really help me out, and head on over to Archive Of Our Own where I have posted the first two chapters of an Original Story that I am working on called “Beneath the Mask.” I would love to have all of your opinions on it, and have a wonderful day!


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Snape was there. Harry recognized his hooked nose, foul oily hair, and sour temper immediately. He was glad to be sitting in the darkness, completely hidden from the Death Eater’s gaze. He could see their faces clearly, since it was so late Harry assumed that none of the Death Eaters decided to go with their masks. He could see that they all looked groggy, yet slightly fearful, confusion on why their Lord have summoned them so late. Since there was low lighting, it was hard to see Crabbe and Goyle, tied up in their chairs at the edge of the darkness. Harry and the Dark Lord waited with baited breath until the first Death Eater notice.

“Son?” Mr. Goyle said, his slow, deep voice lifting in surprise. The rest of the group turned their attention to Crabbe and Goyle, gasps of surprise and alarm filling the room as they saw Goyle’s chest, which still looked and smelt like burnt bark.

“Ignore him,” The Dark Lord said coldly, drawing his follower’s attention.

Mr. Goyle stepped up to the Dark Lord and fell to knees. “My Lord…” The Dark Lord waved his hand idly and Mr. Goyle crawled up to kiss the Dark Lord’s shoes before asking, “My Lord… why have you bring my son here? What has he done— _Ahhh!_ ”

With a lazy wave of Lord Voldemort’s wand, Mr. Goyle fell to the floor screaming in pain. The other Death Eaters did nothing but watch as the torturing spell continued. Harry could feel his stomach twisting in knots as he continued to watch. It was horrifying, yet, he had to admit, better than the snake-swords Tom used last time. Harry found that he did not want to look away as the spell went on. His stomach felt bile, yet he continued to watch as Mr. Goyle continued to scream, writhing on the floor, until, suddenly, the spell stopped.

Silence filled the room. The Dark Lord, hidden by his robes, did not look at any of his followers. “Ignore them,” he said. “They are here to remind you all, your children are in my reach. Those who were in the first meeting knows how. …Severus, step forward.”

Snape stepped forward, his face emotionless as he bowed without instruction. “My Lord,” he muttered.

“What news do you have for me, Severus, of the old fool?” The Dark Lord asked.

“Dumbledore is at Hogwarts my lord, he and Order are working tirelessly to find and retrieve a weapon that they believe will give you a great advantage in the war,” Snape reported. “A weapon hidden in the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic.” Harry frowned, he had never heard of any talk of weapons or this Department of Mysteries.

“Such a weapon does not exist, Severus,” The Dark Lord said, “however, you will continue reporting as such. Make them think that I too am looking for this weapon while we focus on our true goals.”

“I will, my Lord,” Snape said.

“And Severus, do not fail me,” The Dark Lord said idly. “I have overlooked your absence once. Disappointment will only worsen any punishments.”

“Yes, I understand,” Snape said.

The Dark Lord dismissed Snape, and the Potions professor returned to stand in his place in the group. Harry relaxed in his seat, and wondering what his Lord and lover will do next. The Dark Lord looked around his faithful for a moment, and Harry got an idea. Sitting in darkness he spoke out in a low hiss, _“Tom, will you talk about Azkaban now?”_

As he expected, the Death Eaters all tensed up at the sound of his hissing voice. He chuckled to himself as he saw a few of them look around frantically, their eyes low to the ground to look for any hints of snakes. _“How will we free those idiots locked in their cells, my Lord?”_ Harry hissed again.

The Dark Lord chuckled and answered in English, “Ah yes, those faithful few who have chosen their loyalty over their lives.” A few of the Death Eaters shuffled nervously and bashfully at their Lord’s words. “Yes, those stuck in Azkaban, waiting for their Lord’s rescue… the dementors will naturally ally with us as they are dark creatures, however I would like to make sure of that. …Parkinson! You and Yaxley will travel to Azkaban and speak with the dementors. Arrange a meeting and report to Malfoy, he knows how to bring the information to me.”

Harry gave a silent snicker when he saw Mr. Malfoy giving the Dark Lord a secret dirty look as the three men bowed. He was surprised when Snape stepped forward, looking at Crabbe and Goyle with concern. “My Lord, if I may?”

Voldemort motioned for him to speak.

“What are you going to do with Gregory Goyle’s wounds? The boy cannot return to school looking like this,” Snape said.

“Oh? And why couldn’t he?” Lord Voldemort asked, casting a bored look at Goyle. “I say it is rather an improvement.”

“My Lord, Dumbledore will be suspicious if one of his students suddenly shows scarring from a Dark spell,” Snape reasoned.

“Perhaps… or perhaps Dumbledore will reason that his injuries resulted from a failed potions experiment that will occur during class?” The Dark Lord said. “An accident that caused his cauldron to explode, and have the potion drench his robes, burning his shirt and chest.”

“M-My Lord!” Mr. Goyle begged.

Snape looked hesitant, but he bowed, looking emotionless as he said, “I understand, my Lord.”

_“May I add something?”_ Harry hissed.

“Of course,” The Dark Lord said, both boys amused by the fear in the Death Eaters’ eyes.

_“It would be suspicious if the cauldron explodes and only Goyle gets hurt. After all, he and Crabbe work with the same cauldron, they’re partners in class, correct? And Parkinson stands a bit too close to them, along with Greengrass… If the cauldron explodes, shouldn’t it also hit the other three? In various degrees of course.”_

Voldemort chuckled darkly. “My, that is an interesting thing…”

“W-what thing? Who said that?” Mr. Goyle asked.

“Never you mind that,” Voldemort said briskly. He trained his wand on Mr. Goyle before turning it to Crabbe. A shot of emerald flames shot out and scorched his robes, the boy screaming in fright as the flames burned away his clothes. _“Do you remember the spell you’ve used, my love?”_ he asked Harry.

_“I will try,”_ Harry hissed. He stood up quietly and crept around in the darkness, hissing nonsense as he enjoyed the Death Eaters all stood petrified in fear. His steps were also covered by Crabbe’s crying. When he had a clear shot of Crabbe, he pointed his wand at the boy and gave out the same mixture of raspy breaths and hissing. An emerald light shot out of his wand and hit Crabbe’s shoulder, however instead of turning into the burnt bark like Goyle’s wound, angry boils bubbles and exploded violently on Crabbe’s skin, leaving scars and puss everywhere. Harry ended the spell quickly and returned to his seat, annoyed.

_“I’m sure I said the same thing,”_ he hissed.

_“It will do,”_ Voldemort chuckled. Mr. Crabbe stepped forward with a loud moan, “My son! Who done that? Who else is here, my Lord?” He stepped towards his own son but Voldemort stopped him.

“Stop, leave the boy be,” Voldemort commanded. “Severus, kneel.”

Snape looked absolutely frightened. His body was shaking as he knelt down. “My Lord?” he quivered.

“It would be strange if the explosion would hit just Goyle,” The Dark Lord mused. “It would look more like an accident if it hit Crabbe too, along with Parkinson and Greengrass. In various degrees.” Both the Dark Lord and Harry noticed that Mr. Parkinson and Mr. Greengrass looked as though they wanted to object, yet they were too petrified with fear to say anything. The Dark Lord smirked and chuckled darkly at this. “Parkinson, Greengrass, would you too like to object to your Lord’s plan?” he asked.

“N-No my Lord,” Mr. Parkinson said. “My-my Pansy will gladly serve you in anyway.”

“And you, Greengrass?”

“My girls will serve you too…. My Lord,” Greengrass sputtered out.

“Then you all are dismissed,” Voldemort said in a bored tone. “Except you, Severus.”

The others exchanged nervous looks before leaving Severus Snape kneeling in front of the Dark Lord. One by one they left the room, until it was only Voldemort, Severus, Crabbe and Goyle tied to their chairs, and Harry watching in the darkness. Mr. Malfoy was at the door to the dinning room, looking hesitant.

“Leave Malfoy, I will send for you when we are done,” The Dark Lord commanded. Mr. Malfoy looked as though he wanted to stay, perhaps out of spite to his Lord’s wishes, but he left, the door closing behind him.

Harry watched Snape carefully. The man had a stoic look on his face, as if he was concentrating on something. The Dark Lord continued to stare at him, and the look continued until, for a moment, it stopped, and a puzzled look replaced it.

“What does Dumbledore believe to be in the Department of Mysteries?” the Dark Lord asked. “What is this weapon that he thinks I am searching for?”

“The Prophecy, my Lord,” Snape said briefly. “The one that ties you and Harry Potter together. The one that I’ve reported to you.”

“Ahh, yes,” The Dark Lord nodded, though Harry frowned in confusion. _What is he talking about?_ He wondered to himself. He looked at his lover, knowing that he too did not know what Snape was talking about, but The Dark Lord played it off effortlessly. “What has his Order do thus far?”

“Nothing, they are waiting, seeing how you will act, my Lord,” Snape answered. “However there is talk of a watch. For Order members to stake out the entrance to the Department.”

“Delay it as much as possible,” The Dark Lord commands. “For now, we shall keep to the shadows, let the world believe that Dumbledore is a raving fool.”

“And what of Potter?”

“What of him? The boy has already been taken care of,” The Dark Lord chuckled.

“My Lord, what do you mean by that?” Snape asked.

“Nothing that you should concern yourself with, Severus,” Voldemort said. “Let what happens over the next few months happen, and I just might decide to keep you alive.”

Snape’s face paled, and Voldemort dismissed him. Harry waited until the man was gone before coming out of the shadows. “I don’t trust him,” Harry said immediately. “You saw it too, yeah?”

Tom took off his overly big robe and turned to his lover, “You mean his look of puzzlement?”

“Yes, and before that he had this look as though he was concentrating on something,” Harry frowned. “What could he have been doing?”

“I don’t know,” Tom said, looking mildly frustrated. “But Mr. Malfoy might.” He snapped his finger and a house-elf appeared. “Summon your master,” he commanded. It disappeared and the two turned to Crabbe and Goyle. “Boys, I hope I can assume you both know what will happen if you talk of this night,” Tom said, his and Harry’s wand held tightly in their hands.

The two idiots nodded and the doors opened as Mr. Malfoy walked in. “The next time you feel like using my home for a meeting, I would like a proper notice before hand, Mr. Riddle,” he said in an annoyed tone. “However I thank you for not daring to try and use the Cruciatus Curse on me.”

“Of course Mr. Malfoy, we will give you proper warning next time,” Tom chuckled.

“Good, and please hold it at a time while I am not sleeping,” Mr. Malfoy grumbled. “And I will not be your messenger boy.”

“Then just have your elves do the work,” Tom shrugged. “Have them send the mail to either Draco, myself, or Harry. Mixing between the three of us so as not to raise suspicion.”

“I must admit that is rather smart for a teenager such as yourself,” Mr. Malfoy muttered. “Are you sure you are only fifteen?”

“Yes. I am,” Tom said shortly.

“Mr. Malfoy, I have a question,” Harry interrupted.

“What is it Potter?” Mr. Malfoy sighed.

“When we were alone, Snape had this strange look on his face, like he was concentrating on something when Tom was staring at him. Then, after a while, he looked puzzled,” Harry said. “I think he was doing some type of magic but neither Tom and myself know what.”

“Snape is a master at both Legilimency and Occlumency,” Mr. Malfoy said in a bored tone. “He was most likely using Occlumency, and was confused when he did not feel you, Mr. Riddle, try and read his mind using Legilimency.”

“I see,” Tom muttered. “Then it looks as though I now have something useful to do during Umbridge’s classes.” He looked at Mr. Malfoy and said, “There is one more matter, Snape talked of a prophecy that connected myself with Harry.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Any prophecies made are kept in the Department of Mysteries and only the Unspeakables can access them. Now, as much as I would like to continue this discussion, I will be returning to my bed.” And without another word, Mr. Malfoy turned and left, grumbling annoyed to himself.

Harry and Tom chuckled at each other and smiled. They shared a kiss, which they made sure to be slow and long to delay freeing Crabbe and Goyle. When they were done, they released the two and the four made their way out of the Manor the same way they came back in.

They traveled back through the same secret passage connecting Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, and before long the four entered the Slytherin Dungeons, running into nobody, with the help of Harry’s map. Without a word, they went to their dormitory where Draco, Blaise, and Theodore were all deeply asleep.

“We will naturally never speak of what happened tonight,” Tom told Crabbe and Goyle. “Now, hide your wounds and go to sleep. The next potions’ lesson will be interesting.”

The two nodded fearfully and retreated to their beds. Tom turned to Harry and they both smiled victoriously. “Everything is working perfectly, I believe,” Tom whispered as they moved to Tom’s bed, taking off all their clothes until they were both naked, “the Death Eaters have their orders, Dumbledore is being fooled, and Xavier Nathair is researching my past with Ronald taking charge. The next month will be an interesting thing.”

“Mmm, it will Tom,” Harry nodded.

There was a devilish glint in Tom’s eyes as he closed the curtains. “In the meantime,” Tom whispered, “I think you deserve a reward, my little snake.”

“Ohh?” Harry smirked.

“You’ve been such a good boy,” Tom whispered, _“That Daddy is going to take care of you.”_ And he bowed his head and lowered his body, taking Harry’s growing cock in his mouth.

 

The following day dawned just as leaden and rainy as the previous one. It was a surprisingly normal day for Harry and Tom as, to their not-surprise, they’ve shared many classes with the Gryffindors including Double Charms and double Transfiguration. Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall both spent the first fifteen minutes of their lessons lecturing the class on the importance of O.W.L.s.

“What you must remember,” said Professor Flitwick squeakily, “is that these examinations may influence your futures for many years to come! If you have not already given serious thought of your careers, now is the time to do so. And in the meantime, I’m afraid, we shall be working harder than ever to ensure that you all do yourselves justice!”

They then spent more than an hour reviewing Summoning Charms, which according to Professor Flitwick were bound to come up in their O.W.L., and he rounded off the lesson by setting them their largest amount of Charms homework ever.

It was the same, if not worse, in Transfiguration.

“You cannot pass an O.W.L.,” Professor McGonagall said grimly, “without serious application, practice, and study. I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an O.W.L. in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work. So… today we are starting Vanishing Spells. These are easier than Conjuring Spells, which you would not usually attempt until N.E.W.T. level, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your O.W.L.”

She was quite right as Harry found the Vanishing Spell horribly difficult. By the end of a double period, he was unable to vanish the snails the class they were working on, the best he could manage is to make it look somewhat paler while Tom got it right perfectly after a half hour’s struggling. Though he was a little annoyed that Granger got it first.

The two spent lunch alone in the library, Harry working on his homework while Tom read a book on Legilimency and Occlumency. Hagrid was not around, Harry had not notice this fact until he and Tom went down for Care of Magical Creatures and found Professor Grubbly-Plank there instead of the half-giant. Harry didn’t mind mostly, however he and Tom both agreed that the lesson was very boring. They were glad when it was over, though he overheard Ron and Hermione asking about Hagrid, during the class, and thought that Ron should have been worrying about more important things like Nathair and his research.

With classes done, Harry and Tom found themselves with Draco, Blaise and Theodore in the library once more, the five of them working on homework.

“Hey Tom, what do you want to do after Hogwarts?” Blaise asked suddenly.

Tom looked up from his essay for Potions, “Hmm?”

“What do you want to do after Hogwarts, career wise,” Blaise asked again. Tom and Harry exchanged a look.

“Well, I suppose being the Dark Lord isn’t exactly something I can officially apply for,” Tom said in a joking manner. “However… perhaps a teacher, here at Hogwarts or maybe another school. I would also like to travel.”

“With me of course,” Harry said, “there’s no way I’ll allow you to wander around by yourself.”

“Of course my little snake, I would never leave you,” Tom purred and he took Harry’s hand in his own and kissed it.

“Interesting, I thought you would aim to be Ministry personally,” Blaise said, stretching in his chair. “A leadership role, for our Dark Lord.”

“A Dark Lord works best from the shadows,” Tom said. “That’s where the other Tom failed I think. He wanted a war. Well, I don’t want that yet. I have much more important things to do.”

“Such as?” Theodore Nott asked.

“Such as looking for a way to best Dumbledore and any fool idiotic enough to challenge me,” Tom said. “As well as mastering Occlumency and Legilimency. They both seem to have useful skills to have. But let’s not talk about that stuff here, okay?”

“Alright Tom,” Blaise nodded. “What about you Harry?”

“Huh? I don’t know,” Harry shrugged. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Well you should,” Draco said. “You need to know what you are going to apply to be for your classes next year.”

“Which is a whole year away, my pet,” Blaise said. “Take a day to smell the roses, it will do you good.” Draco only replied with a glare but stayed silent.

And so, Harry’s and Tom’s lives went on with classes and studying, only broken by miniature dates here and there, and sexual acts in their beds. Nothing interesting happened in Harry’s mind, not even the accident that he and Tom planned for Potions. The cauldron exploded, however Parkinson and Greengrass barely got hurt, the most that happened was their clothes got slightly burned. The two did not even get sent to the Hospital Wing, only Crabbe and Goyle, and Snape went with them to remove their curses. When the two came back to the dormitory, Harry saw their skin clearer than it ever was when they changed for bed.

Three weeks into the school year, however, something did happen. Harry and Tom were making their way to dinner from the Slytherin common room when Ron and Xavier Nathair ran into them in the entrance hall.

“Harry!” Ron called out. He and Xavier both shared a victorious look as they made their way to the couple.

“It’s done,” Xavier Nathair said, his eyes practically shining as he stared at Tom. “I know everything about your history.”

Tom looked between the two of them and nodded, “Well then,” he said, sounding unimpressed, “tell me.”


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

“Since you are so insistent I guess I should tell you everything about your family, but not here. Shall we move someplace different? Someplace more private? For there are facts that I’ve found out that should not be overheard by others… Ron you can come along too I guess.”

Tom and the others were silent as they followed Xavier away from the Great Hall, and up the Grand Staircase. He led them up and down stairs, through corridors, down hallways, and turning the two around until, finally, once Harry was dizzy and confused, they stopped in front of a door on the seventh floor Harry had never seen before.

It was a small room, comically simple in fact. Just a small table with four wooden chairs around it. There was a window pointing out to the Forbidden Forest, and Harry walked over to have a look over it, seeing the darken hut that sits on the forest’s edge. He frowned, wondering idly about Hagrid’s absence. He wasn’t a friend of the half-giant, but Ron and Hermione were. Tom walked up behind Harry and placed a hand on his shoulder.

 _“He is probably at the same place our men are, negotiating with giants,”_ he whispered.

 _“I just don’t want people getting killed because of this,”_ Harry hissed back. _“I don’t want a war.”_

 _“Then we’ll work to make sure there isn’t one,”_ Tom comforted Harry. Harry relaxed under his touch and the two moved to the table where Ron and Xavier were already sitting, the giant book Xavier always carried opened in the middle of the table.

“Where are we?” Tom asked as he and Harry sat down.

“In a room that we required,” Xavier brushed off. “But more importantly, it’s time for me to hold up my end of the bargain. However, it doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t?”

“How you can exist and be your age, Riddle, for your mother, Merope Gaunt died on December Thirty-First in Nineteen-Twenty Six. She was only nineteen,” Xavier said. “So before I explain what I have learned about you, why don’t you tell me exactly how is it that you are not a frail old man.”

Tom frowned. “Is this really necessary?”

“It is. Or maybe I should go to Dumbledore and tell him we have a pedophile in our House?” Xavier smirked.

Tom shrugged and leaned into his chair to get into a more comfortable position. “Tell him,” he said brushing Xavier’s threat aside. “Tell him how I am supposed to be an old man, how it is a puzzling wonderment that I exist. He won’t mind, or care, for you see Mr. Nathair, the old fool knows everything.”

Xavier frowned, his advantage lost. “But, since you are so insistent I will tell you,” Tom sighed. “You are right, I should be a frail old man… in fact I am, if I was still alive.”

“What do you mean?” Xavier asked.

“I was born the same year my mother died it seemed. In fact from the sounds of it she died of childbirth, as my birthday falls on the same day. I as named after my father, Thomas Riddle, and my grandfather Marvolo, whose last name you thankfully have told me is Gaunt. I was born in an orphanage, Wool’s Orphanage, where I was taken under the care of Mrs. Cole. I have lived there for five years. From Nineteen-Twenty-Six to Nineteen-Thirty-Two. It was an awful place, even as a child I hated it. Then something miraculous happened, freakish if you would.

“There was a storm. I had my window open as they have always calmed me. And for reasons unknown I was hit with a lightning bolt. That bolt of lightning somehow split me in two either through magic or pseudo-science who can say but, one version of myself stayed in that orphanage in Nineteen-Thirty-Two, while I traveled farther in time to Nineteen-Eighty-Five. From there I’ve met and lived with Harry since we were both seven. And that is how I have come to be here.”

“And what of the other Tom Riddle?” Nathair demanded. “The one stayed behind?”

“Oh, you’ve heard of him,” Tom chuckled. “He was Lord Voldemort.” The table shook as both Xavier and Ron jumped violent in their seats at the sound of Voldemort’s name. Tom found this amusing as Ron’s eyes widen, quickly connection two and two.

“Wait—does that mean that you’re—”

“That I am the Dark Lord?” Tom asked. “No. Precisely, I am not that Dark Lord, however Harry and I are using his name and followers for our own wants.” Ron continued to stare at Tom.

“That means you….you and Harry are…”

“Are what?”

“Dark Wizards,” Ron whispered, as if it was a cursed, forbidden thing.

Tom did not answer, he simply looked at Harry expectantly. Harry gave a low sigh and looked at his friend. “If you want to label us as that…yeah, we are Dark Wizards… and we’re currently using the Death Eaters to take over the Ministry.”

“Why… why would you want to do that?” Ron whispered, color draining from his skin.

Harry frowned and looked at Tom for a long moment as an awkward, tense silence filled the small room. “I know things don’t seem alright but…why Harry?” Ron whispered.

“To prove myself,” Tom answered. “The other Dark Lord did a hideous job. I must do it, to show the world, how a proper Dark Lord handles situations—”

“We want to become better Dark Wizards than him,” Harry interrupted. “He died because of a plan I made when I was eleven. There always have to be a Dark Lord, yeah? A Dark Wizard the people are afraid of, someone to either rally behind or rally to fight. I figured that it would be better if we control both sides. He will be the Dark Lord ruling from the shadows… and I’m going to become an Auror, like my parents, to combat him. I think, that together, Tom and I can create a new order, a new society, where there will be no need for dark magic or light magic, just an endless mixture of grey…”

“Is this true?” Tom asked. “You’ve never told me any of this before.”

“I’ve kept it to myself,” Harry said. “I wanted no one to know while I thought it out.”

“How long?”

“Three years, ever since Remus and Sirius told us about my mum and dad,” Harry said. Tom looked at Harry for a  moment and began to laugh. “This is why I love you Harry Potter,” he declared. “To keep such a big plan to yourself that nobody knows for so long—you are perfect, my little snake.”

Harry gave a small smile and turned to Ron and Xavier, “Moving back to the matter, Ron are you okay?”

“I don’t know… just…just give me time to think about it,” Ron said. Harry nodded and turned to Xavier. “Continue.”

Xavier looked off-balanced, either from the shock of Harry’s declaration or Tom’s it cannot be said. “R-Right… Merope belonged to the Gaunt Family. She and her brother and father were the last survivors of the family, and it died with the death of your Uncle, Morfin Gaunt, a few years ago. He was in Azkaban, accused and found guilty for the murders of Mr. and Mrs. Riddle, your grandparents, as well as their son, your father. Though an interesting thing I’ve found was that the Gaunt Family had a family heirloom, a ring to be precise, mentioned throughout the family history. No such ring was found in Morfin’s possession.” He paused, waiting for Tom to respond or react but the teenage Dark Lord just stayed silent and unemotional. “Anyway… The House of Gaunt is known, like many Pure Families, for marrying their cousins. This is mostly to keep the key family trait, the ability to speak Parseltongue, in their control. They are known, especially in later years as their wealth dwindled, to boast about how they are directly related to Salazar Slytherin. As you might guess, this caused many problems. But ignoring that, the Gaunt Family has quite an interesting history.

“Moving backwards in time, the Gaunt Family was littered with mentally unstable members who squandered and threw away their vast amount of fortune, however they were still able to keep their place among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, Twenty-Eight Families whose blood has always been pure. A concept still held dear today but with dwindling attraction. The earliest noteworthy event is in the seventeen hundreds when Hogwarts staff was proposing a vast and elaborate plumbing system. Corvinus Gaunt, then a student, knew about the Chamber of Secrets and where it was hidden. It is because of him that it became concealed behind plumbing and a sink instead of it’s original appearance, which is originally just a concealed trapdoor and a series of tunnels. Moving on from him, the next series of Gaunts who took fame lived in the 1600s.

“Gormlaith Gaunt killed her sister Rionach and husband William Sayre for betraying the family belief of pure-blood supremacy by aiding muggles. She burnt down their cottage and stole their child, a daughter named Isolt Sayre. She imprisoned the child for twelve years, but the child escaped and fled to the then New World where she helped find the wizarding school Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In my own opinion Hogwarts sound better. Anyway, there she married muggle James Steward, and went by the nickname Morrigan, a name Isolt’s father had given her given that she was named after Morrigan herself, whom your family have a direct lineage to. Gormlaith heard, and remembered the nickname, and knew that it was Isolt as the school shares the name of the cottage she had burnt down. Upset that Isolt’s school was accepting everyone with magical potential, Gormlaith planned to set out to the New World and take revenge on her niece. She got so far as to corner the Steward family into a room, about to kill James and their two daughters, when Isolt yells out a name, William, and out of nowhere a pukwudgie appeared and killed Gormlaith with an arrow.”

“What’s a pukwudgie?” Harry frowned.

“An American creature,” Xavier sighed. “Think of a goblin, shorter, more native and tribal, and good with bow and arrows. Anyway, it has been alluded to that the Gaunt Family tried to overthrow the Ministry and rule themselves, all of this ended in failure, however I am certain that you are more keen to succeed, are you not?” Again, Tom was silent. “Right…anyway, through many generations the Gaunt Family can be traced back to two distinct families, both names lost to history, both remembered, how only one name lives on.

“The Slytherin line, of course, where you have your gift of Parseltongue, and in which no way is related to the Potter line, Harry, but also the Peverell Family, which holds another interesting history. The Potters, in fact, have always been closely related to the Peverell Family, since the marriage of Hardwin Potter and Iolanthe Peverell. Not that it really matters as the two of you are far from related. What is interesting, however, is the Peverell Family’s supposed claim to fame. Now, the Peverell Family is one of the first families to become extinct in the male line, however, before that happened, long before Iolanthe’s marriage, long before Gormlaith killed her sister, there was said to be three Peverell brothers. Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus. From these three brothers split off into the different families, Cadmus, the middle brother, being your ancestor Tom, while Ignotus, the youngest, being yours, Harry. However, these three brothers are said to be _The_ Three Brothers from the tale of the same name. The brothers who’ve met and conquered Death, getting it’s wand, it’s stone, and it’s cloak…”

“You mean that fairy tale?” Harry asked. “About… the Elder Wand… the Resurrection Stone, and the Cloak of Invisibility?”

“Precisely,” Xavier nodded. “Whether you believe those things exist is up to you. I for one do not.”

“Why not?” Harry asked.

“Too good to exist,” Xavier shrugged. “Besides, out of the three the only useful one is the Elder Wand and, well, neither of you are heir to that, not that it matters. Tom, your family is from Cadmus, the middle child, who’ve received the Resurrection Stone. While you, Harry, have the Cloak of Invisibility. Of course none of these things exist.”

Harry frowned, his mind going to his own Invisibility Cloak. “But what if they do?” he asked.

“Explain.”

“Well there’s my Invisibility Cloak,” Harry said. “I’ve gotten it in my first year and it was my father’s… and he got it from his dad and so on… shouldn’t Invisibility Cloaks fade throughout time?”

“Yes, that is what usually happens,” Xavier nodded.

“But mine makes me and whoever is under it completely invisible,” Harry said.

“Then it must be on the verge of fading.”

“No,” Harry shook his head. “It works perfectly same now as it did in my first year. Couldn’t that prove that it might be the Cloak of Invisibility?” He asked, looking oddly hopeful.

“No.”

“I think it does,” Tom said. “In fact… I believe that Harry’s cloak is the Cloak of Invisibility that Death gave to the Youngest Brother.”

“Oh? And since when were you the expect on Invisibility Cloaks?” Xavier demanded, crossing his arms in a stubborn way. To everyone’s surprise, it was Ron who answered.

“Cause it’s not fading… my Dad told me that cloaks fade over time, become opaque or ripped up the older it gets but Harry’s is in perfect condition,” Ron said. Harry smiled at his friend’s support while Xavier looked annoyed.

“So what? Should we just accept that the story is true then? That something written down as fiction is true? What does that mean of the other things? What does that mean about all those other fairy tales? Should they be consider actual history too?” Xavier sprouted off, his voice going higher and more effeminate the angrier he got.

“Shut up,” Tom snapped. “We are not talking about that, we’re talking about the possibility that the three things in the story might be real.”

“Then where is the Elder Wand? Hmm? Or the Resurrection Stone? Why is it that only the Cloak has been passed down?” Xavier demanded. Tom gave a long sigh and relaxed in his chair. Again to their surprise, it was Ron who answered.

“Xavier, be quiet,” he said, “you’re acting like a little kid.”

“How—”

“Xavier,” Ron growled out. He moved his hand to the back of Xavier’s neck and just held it there, applying light pressure which caused the older Slytherin to strangely relax. The four of them were silent for a while as Xavier’s eyes closed. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s always a possibility that Cadmus fostered an heir before his death, be it from suicide as like in the story or otherwise,” Tom said calmly. “The Gaunt Family is a descendant of Cadmus, the only family descendant, if what we know is true. If the Resurrection Stone was passed down, like the cloak, then it must has been passed down in a form that it wasn’t originally, as who would pass own a simple stone. … Xavier, how long has that ring been mentioned in the Gaunt Family history?”

Xavier’s eyes opened and he stared at Tom for a moment. Ron kept the pressure on the back of his neck before sliding his hand to Xavier’s shoulder. “Since the records began,” Xavier said.

“How is the ring described?” Tom asked.

Xavier sighed. He reached towards his book and flipped through it. “Here,” he said. “Records shown that the ring is gold insert with a black stone. On it was crest that was neither the Gaunts’ or Slytherin’s.”

“Can you describe it?”

“No record describing the crest exists,” Xavier sighed. “However it is certainly not Slytherin’s nor the Gaunt Family’s.”

“Then we can safely go under the assumption that the crest belongs to the Peverell Family,” Tom said. “At some point in time the Stone has been turned into a ring and passed through the Gaunt Family until, at some point, Mofin or Marvolo lost it. There, now we know the existence of two of the possessions. However, I don’t particularly care about the Stone, and we already have the Cloak.”

“So you want to know more about the wand?” Harry asked.

“Precisely,” Tom nodded. “A Dark Lord needs the most powerful wand after all, and the other Tom has my real wand, and that is lost somewhere. My current one works wonders but, I would like to have something better.”

“Of course you do,” Xavier sighed. “So now I’m going to guess you want to know everything about the Elder Wand, correct?”

“Precisely.”

“Well, I know nothing,” Xavier said. “Threaten me all you want, but there is nothing in my records or my father’s about the Elder Wand.”

“Who killed Antioch then? How did he die?” Tom asked.

“Same as in the story, someone killed him, I don’t know who, can we leave now I am getting hungry,” Xavier said snappishly.

“No, you will not,” Tom commanded. “Harry has given you the task of looking into my family history, wanting to know everything about it. There are still holes, one of them being the Elder Wand’s current owner.”

“That is not history, that is fairy tales and rubbish,” Xavier said. “I have done my job, I have looked at the facts that exist and are not pulled from thin air, so if you excuse me _your Lordship_ , I’m leaving to eat dinner, which started almost an hour ago. Goodnight!” He stood up suddenly and closed his book with a loud slamming noise. Muttering darkly to himself, Xavier Nathair picked up his book and stormed out, leaving the three 5th years sitting.

“Well, now I can see why his family never became my followers,” Tom said after a moment’s silence. “The boy is too fickle, his head stuck in that book of his.”

“So…what now?” Harry frowned.

“Now, we start the research ourselves,” Tom said. “Or more precisely, Harry, you and I will research into this Elder Wand. Ron, you are free to choose what to do.”

Harry turned to Ron, whose face was a mixture of emotions. “Ron…” he said gently. “Are you okay?”

“I…I uhh… can I go eat? I need to think,” Ron said hesitantly. “I won’t say anything! Promise!” he added quickly.

“I know you won’t Ron,” Tom said, giving him a rare smile, “because I know that you’re a true friend.”

Ron just nodded silently and focused on Harry. “I’ll uh see you in class… goodnight,” he muttered.

Harry nodded and watched as he friend left after Xavier. Once he was gone, Harry turned to Tom, who was deep in contemplation. Harry thought about what he should say, what he would do, but finding nothing, he just sat in his seat confused in thought, frowning to himself as he watched Tom lost in his own mind. He opened and closed his mouth several times, each time the words dying on his tongue before they could reach his lips. Tom did not notice as, quite suddenly, the teen stood up and began looking through the shelves for certain books. Harry sat in his chair for five more minutes, fully confuses on everything, before, seeing that Tom will not return any time soon, he stood up and decided to leave.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty One

Azkaban was a horrible place. A fortress on an island in the middle of the North Sea, Azkaban reeked only of death and despair as its main inhabitants spent their days listlessly locked in their cells, yelling madly as Dementors patrol the hallways. Harry felt the intense despair the moment he, Tom, and Mr. Malfoy appeared on the island. Mr. Malfoy had a grim expression on his face as he turned to Tom and Harry. “I sincerely hope one of you know how to produce a Patronus or else you will die in there,” he said in an annoyed tone. It was the middle of the night, like always, two days since Xavier told Harry and Tom about Tom’s past, and two days since Tom started researching the Elder Wand. While Tom just wanted to appear in Malfoy Manor again like last time, Harry had the decency to send a note in the morning.

“I can,” Harry said. “I just hope this talk will go quickly.” He pulled out his wand and thought of the happiest feelings and memories deep inside him. _“Expecto Patronum!”_ A handsome, dazzling silver stag burst from his wand and stood by Harry’s side.

“Hmm… impressive,” Mr. Malfoy hummed. He looked down at Tom, a small sneer appearing as he said, “And I guess it that our Dark Lord cannot produce a Patronus?”

“No Mr. Malfoy, I cannot,” Tom gritted out. “Let’s get this over with, the more time here is time wasted that I could be researching the wand.”

“Ahh yes, this Elder Wand,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Who would have guessed that the Dark Lord would be obsessed with fairy tales.” He chuckled to himself while Tom ignored him. The Dark Lord took the lead as they entered the prison.

Harry was expecting a lobby or sort of welcoming room, however the front door of the prison only led to a grim looking large space with moss-grown stone walls. There was nobody in it, no furniture, no dementors or any sounds at all. He thought that he would hear the screams of the insane but instead… nothing. He took a few steps forward and looked around. There was an opening that suggested a door once stood there, Harry peaked in it to see container upon container of wands both broken and whole. He ignored this and turned to the only other door on the opposite side. This door was made of metal and looked as thought it hadn’t been moved in a millennia. Harry and Tom moved to the door and tried to push and pull it open, having no luck.

“Imbeciles,” Mr. Malfoy scoffed. He moved forward and produced his own wand from his cane. “That door can only be opened by high-ranking Ministry members. Observe.” He aimed his wand at the door and twisted his wrist then flicked his wand down. A lock sounded somewhere and the door opened silently, and with it Harry felt a wave of misery overcome him before his Patronus jumped in front of them, warming the three.

Harry kept close to Tom as the Patronus led the way up a long, winding staircase. “How… when will we know which Dementor to talk to?” Harry asked, looking at both Tom and Mr. Malfoy.

“The wraiths? They ally themselves naturally to Dark Wizards,” Mr. Malfoy said. “All Thomas has to do is prove himself… words won’t save you here boy.” He chuckled to himself as he stepped forward, leading Tom and Harry up the staircase. The staircase led to a circular hallway with small cells pushed against each other. The screams started as soon as the Patronus stepped into the hallway. Harry winced and covered his ears as the entire hallway erupted in noise. Mr. Malfoy rolled his eyes at Harry’s actions. There was banging, and Harry looked to his right to see a ghastly man, more akin to a skeleton with flesh than a human banging his fist on the bars.

“Ahh, if it isn’t Travers,” Mr. Malfoy chuckled. “He was one of the Death Eaters who chose to stay loyal after the old Lord’s fall. … He used to be less skinny than this.”

“I see,” Tom said. He stepped forward and observed Travers for a moment. “He looks useless to me,” he said.

“As he was during the first war,” Mr. Malfoy commented. “Blood thirsty mongrel. He barely killed one person, who he was sentenced here for.”

Harry frowned while Tom just nodded. They moved on, ignoring Traver’s screams, as they walked along the circled hallway until they reached another set of staircases, leading to the middle. It looked to Harry to be the main staircase as there were many stops with doors leading to another area of the prison. The three of them climbed, the Patronus always in front of them, shielding them in a warm glow that battled against the depression that did it’s best to seep into the three of them. They climbed and climbed, but only the sounds of screams greet them. There was no sign or hint of dementors, no hollow sounds of their gliding or peeks of tattered robes… until…

There, at the top, Harry opened the door to reveal them all. A room full of pitch blackness that moved and ebb like silent waves. Fear overcame Harry and his Patronus moved closer to the three wizards as he reached for Tom’s hand. The dementors all stared down at them, waiting for a time to strike but fearful themselves of the silver stag that protected them. Harry looked towards Tom, hoping to see him scared too, but was met with an expressionless face.

Tom took a step forward, his wand held tight in his hand. The room suddenly filled with the rattling wheezing sounds of the dementors’ breathing. He looked around the dementors, considering them for a moment, before pointing his wand at the black mass. _“Avada Kedavra!”_ The Killing Curse hit it’s mark but the dementor did not die, it instead went up in flames unaffected, uncaring as the fire continued to spread across the black mass, it’s angry flames joining the uneasy rattling breaths. Harry screamed as the Patronus jumped towards the Dementors, having them back away in fright.

“Idiot boy!” Mr. Malfoy yelled out. “Dementors are not living things! They cannot be killed by the Killing Curse.”

Tom looked back at Mr. Malfoy, scowling menacingly, before turning back to the dementors who tried to swarm the three only to be blocked by Harry’s Patronus. “Then I will use words old man,” he spat out. He took a step forward, standing next to the stag and began to address the Dementors. “I am the Dark Lord, a time is coming where the Ministry and those who defends it will fall. Help me towards that goal and I promise you free reign on England. Stand in my way, however, and I will find a way to personally execute each and every one of you. The Patronus charm keeps you all at bay… however I will find a more powerful spell to eliminate you. Now… move, I wish to inspect whom you’ve imprisoned on the highest floor.” He waited a moment, the dementors all stared at Tom, their faces visible from the fire’s glow and it made Harry physically ill.

 _“Have the stag ram into them,”_ Tom ordered. Harry stomached his nausea and nodded. He whipped his wand and the Stag charged towards the nearest Dementor, catching it in its horns before driving it into the wall. The others fled in fear, leaving the room in a fiery blaze. Mr. Malfoy moved out of the way and watched as the dementors left, looking like a mass of fire slowly dwindling down the stairs. When the darkness of night returned, he turned to look around the prison.

The room was small, the cells even smaller. With a small glance, Mr. Malfoy knew that this is where they’ve stored the most dangerous and insane prisoners. Including his sister-in-law, Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry and Tom looked around as well, but with no recognition of any of the Death Eaters in here.

“If we are done?” Mr. Malfoy asked.

“Yes, we are,” Tom nodded. “The Dementors are on our side now I believe.”

“Good, then let us get out of this wretched place. I’ve been in here too long,” Mr. Malfoy said, and he left without another word. Tom and Harry followed. “Mr. Malfoy, I want to ask you something,” he said as they descended down the winding staircase.

“If it involves Dolores Umbridge’s recent appointment as High Inquisitor, then no, I know nothing about that decision. That was the Minister’s idea entirely,” Mr. Malfoy said.

Harry frowned, but nodded. “Do you know what exactly her role is? She’s been High Inquisitor for a week and so far has done nothing.”

“Did you not read that article, Potter?” Mr. Malfoy spat. “She will be monitoring your teachers and, if she finds them lacking satisfaction, she has the ability to remove them from teaching positions if needed.”

Harry nodded, “Vile woman,” he muttered darkly.

“Even so what are you going to do about it, boy? You are just a fifteen year old wizard barely of aged,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Yes I admit, you show more cunning and ability than your average wizard, however you alone can do nothing to stop her.”

“But at this rate there will be an entire year wasted,” Harry said. “She is not teaching us proper Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“And you are complaining about this?” Mr. Malfoy laughed. He turned and stared at Harry. “I thought you’re a Dark Wizard, Potter. Or was that just frivolous talk?”

“I am a Dark Wizard,” Harry said. “But that does not mean I won’t allow others to not have the opportunity to learn how to defend themselves.”

“Then teach them yourself for all I care,” Mr. Malfoy said, waving his hand dismissively, “Just leave me out of your little ploys for a while. All I want now is brandy and an uninterrupted sleep with my wife.”

Harry frowned but said nothing. The three returned to the entrance of the prison, the rest of their journey was silent. Once fully outside, Mr. Malfoy pulled out an old worn-out coin from his pocket and held it out. Harry and Tom touched it and the three were taken away from the prison on the North Sea, traveling instantaneously back to the front gardens of Malfoy Manor.

“I trust the two of you can return yourselves back to Hogwarts,” Mr. Malfoy said. He turned and rapped his cane against the cobblestone path leading towards the manor twice. A house-elf appeared, and he ordered it, “Bring a glass of brandy to my room immediately. Mr. Potter and Mr. Riddle are on their way out.”

Using the same secret passage they used to get out of Hogwarts, Harry and Tom returned to the castle, using floo powder to get into Hogsmeade, and the passage under Honeydukes to get to the school proper. Once they were safe in the dungeon, Tom saw Harry’s thoughtful expression and said, “You are not actually thinking of teaching the others yourself, are you?”

“It’s a good idea,” Harry said.

“That we don’t have the time to do love,” Tom said. “We have Death Eaters to order around, as well as research about the Elder Wand and it’s location, keep up the façade that the old Voldemort and myself are one and the same, all the while keeping cautious of Dumbledore, Snape, and now Umbridge does not find out any of our plans. Look. Remember the trend that’s been going on with the Defense post? Every teacher only last a year. A single year. We’ve survived Lockhart’s mucking about, we will survive Umbridge’s.”

“But this is O.W.L. year for us and a lot of our friends,” Harry said. “We won’t pass because of her. For our plan to succeed, in order to create the grey world of both Light and Dark Arts, then we need to pass Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.”

Tom was silent for a moment. He turned to Harry and placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders. “If you believe you can handle the added responsibilities, then teach our friends,” he said. “Teach them enough so they may pass, and defend themselves against the more brutal and idiotic of our followers.”

“Oh yeah… I was just focused on making sure we all pass,” Harry nodded. “Though now that you’ve mentioned it… what are you going to do with them? After everything is over.”

Tom began to undress along with Harry.

“Those without children I’ll just kill,” Tom shrugged. “And those at the top floor of Azkaban I will kill first, if they do not fall during our take over.”

“Do you think you’re up to that?” Harry asked. “Killing all those people?”

“People?” Tom scoffed. He was fully naked now, his erection pointing towards Harry. “My little snake, they are not people. They’re monsters. Monsters we are using just as we’re using the giants. Now… get in bed Harry. I think we both deserve some fun before we sleep.”

Harry smiled, his own cock growing, “Yes Daddy,” he chuckled and got into Tom’s bed, the curtains closing around them.

 

As if to prove Mr. Malfoy correct, when Tom and Harry walked into Transfiguration the next day with the Gryffindors, they found Professor Umbridge sitting in a corner with her clipboard. “You’ve missed it,” Ron whispered at Harry. “She was there during Divination too. She made Trelawney go ballistic. …Where were you anyway?”

“I skipped in order to help Tom in the library,” Harry said vaguely. “He’s obsessed with his new research.” Ron nodded then looked around. “Look mate… about what happened there, me storming off… I wanted to say sorry about that. And you don’t need to worry about me,” he added as they sat down. “I’m behind you two, one hundred percent.”

Harry didn’t know if Ron just realized he was pledging his support to a Dark Wizard or not, but the act and effort made his heart go soft. He smiled warmly, and thanked Ron as Professor McGonagall marched into the room without giving the slightest indication that she knew Professor Umbridge was there. “We need to speak after class about something,” Harry whispered urgently.

“That will do,” she said, and silence fell immediately. “Mr. Riddle kindly come here and hand back the homework—Miss Brown, please take this box of mice—don’t be silly, girl, they won’t hurt you—and hand one to each student—”

 _“Hem, hem,”_ Professor Umbridge said, employing the same silly little cough she had used to interrupt Dumbledore on the first night of term. Professor McGonagall ignored her. Tom handed back Harry’s essay; Harry took it and saw, to his relief, that he had managed an E.

“Right then, everyone, listen closely—Dean Thomas, if you do that to the mouse again, I shall put you in detention—most of you have now successfully vanished your snails and even those who were left with a certain amount of shell have the gist of the spell. Today—”

 _“Hem, hem,”_ Professor Umbridge said.

“Yes?” Professor McGonagall said, turning round, her eyebrows so close together they seemed to form one long, severe line.

Tom leaned over and whispered as Umbridge was talking, _“If we are lucky, Professor McGonagall would rid of her now for us,”_ he hissed. Harry smiled and nodded as Professor McGonagall said, “Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom,” and she turned her back firmly on Professor Umbridge. “As I was saying, today we shall be practicing the altogether more difficult vanishment of mice. Now, the Vanishing Spell—”

_“Hem, hem.”_

“I wonder,” Professor McGonagall said in a cold fury, turning on Professor Umbridge, “how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking.”

Professor Umbridge looked as though she had just been slapped in the face. She did not speak, but straightened the parchment on her clipboard and began scribbling furiously. Looking supremely unconcerned, Professor McGonagall addressed the class once more.

“As I was saying, the Vanishing Spell becomes more difficult with the complexity of the animal to vanished. The snail, being an invertebrate, does not present much of a challenge; the mouse, being a mammal, offers a much greater one. This is not, therefore, magic you can accomplish with your mind on your dinner. So—you know the incantation, let me see what you can do. …”

“What is it you want to talk to me about?” Ron whispered as they started to work. Tom looked at both Harry and Ron as Harry concentrated on the mouse.

“I told you, after class,” Harry said, his eyes glancing up at Professor Umbridge, who stayed sitting in her seat.

By the end of class, Ron ran up to Harry and said, “What did you want to talk about?”

Harry took Ron’s arm and looked at Hermione, “You too,” he said, motioning for both of them to follow him. The three moved away from the others and down a corridor. Harry did not stop until he was sure that they were alone. He turned around and said, “I’ve decided I’m going to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts by myself. And I want to help my friends learn it as well so we can pass our O.W.L.s. We’re learning nothing from that vile woman so this is the only way I see the three of us passing.”

“Are you sure about this Harry?” Hermione asked. “It sounds like a wonderful idea but are you sure you’re up for it?”

“I am,” Harry nodded. “So what do you two say?”

“I’m in,” Ron said automatically. “Can I bring Xavier along?”

“I…I guess?” Harry said questionably. “I’m going to tell Blaise and Draco about this during dinner.”

“Then shouldn’t we open it up to more people?” Hermione asked. “Get as much as we can.”

Harry frowned, “I mean… I guess but… who else would want to learn from me? The public think I’m insane along with Dumbledore and… this is mostly so I know that my friends can defend themselves if…when the time comes.”

“All the more reason to open it up to anyone who wants to join,” Hermione said. “We’ll keep it secret of course, but you’ll never know…”

Harry frowned and thought for a moment. He just wanted to make sure he and his friends knew how to defend each other and pass their O.W.L.s. He did not really care about anyone else. However when he saw the conviction in Hermione’s face, he knew that there was no way he could say no.

“Fine,” he said. “There’s a pub that Tom and I found last year in Hogsmeade. It’s off the road barely anyone comes to it. It’s called the Hog’s Head. We go there whenever we want to be alone. Tell anyone who wants to be taught by me to meet up there at eleven precisely. I will be waiting ten minutes after eleven before leaving. Understand?”

Hermione and Ron nodded.

“Good,” Harry said. “Now, we should head towards Care of Magical Creatures before we’re late. Tom hates it when I’m late to class and goes on about it for hours. Besides, Umbridge might be there and I rather not give her the satisfaction of seeing me in trouble.” As they made their long way to Care of Magical Creatures, Harry’s mind wandered. He thought of what exactly he was doing, agreeing to teach a whole amount of students he didn’t care for when he just wanted to make sure his friends were safe. He felt uneasy about it, but then he thought of how it would feel knowing he took the students from Umbridge. He wasn’t paying attention in her class anyway. He spent the class reading about Dark Wizards, cloaking his books to look like Umbridge’s textbook. Yesterday he started reading about a wizard called Emeric the Evil who terrorized the Middle Ages. His thoughts then turned towards the mythical Elder Wand which always seemed out of grasped. He wondered how long it would take him and Tom to find it. For some reason he felt like they were close, that they were on the right step to proving it’s existence. They just missed one piece. Clutching his back closer, Harry’s mind finally wandered to Umbridge and her inevitable demise.

Tom was true, all Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers only last a year at Hogwarts, he and Tom even killed one of them in their first year. A terrible thought entered his mind and wouldn’t leave it as they stepped onto the grounds. _What if Umbridge would follow in Quirrell’s footsteps?_ It would be satisfying, grimly enough, and Harry believed that nobody would miss her as nobody missed Quirrell. However… if she did die, if Tom and Harry did kill her, then it would out the two of them immediately. That said, it was a nice thought to Harry’s twisted mind, and when he saw Umbridge waiting for them with Professor Grubbly-Plank, Hagrid’s substitute, the thought aroused the boy even more. So much so that it began morphing in his mind, changing as he rejoined with Tom and slipped his hand in his. The thought formed it’s own conviction, it’s own importance until it moved from just a simple thought to a conviction, a truth that Harry needed to make reality. Staring daggers at the woman, the truth now circled Harry’s brain, searing itself into Harry’s everlasting memory until, for that moment it became his whole universe, his whole existence, until fading down into a promise made from himself to the heavens. A promise that he will carry out without a fail. A promise that he will keep to himself until it is time to carry it out. A promise that went like this:

_I’m going to kill Professor Dolores Jane Umbridge._


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Hog’s Head is located on the off-beaten path of Hogsmeade. It was a grimy place; the windows was covered with an inch of grime, dust rose from the floor with every step, the floor looking earthly but, on further inspection, turned out to be stone beneath centuries of filth. The bar comprised of one small, dingy and very dirty room that smelled strongly of something that might have been goats. There was a man at the bar whose head was wrapped in dirty gray bandages, though he was still managing to gulp endless glasses of some smoking, fiery substance through a slit over his mouth. Two figures shrouded in hoods sat at a table in one of the windows, Harry might have thought them dementors if they had not been talking in strong Yorkshire accents; in a shadowy corner beside the fireplace sat a witch with a thick, black veil that fell to her toes. They could just see the tip of her nose because it caused the veil to protrude slightly.

“I don’t expect many people to come,” Harry said to Tom as the two moved to a table all the way in the back, “I mean, I am sure that people would want to learn Defense, but who would want to learn from me?”

“I would naturally, if I had the time,” Tom said.

“But you’re smarter than me!” Harry hissed.

“True, I am,” Tom nodded.

“Oh how humble you are,” Harry grumbled.

Tom rolled his eyes and the two sat down. He checked the time and said, “Ten to eleven… we shall see who is willing to learn from the beautiful Slytherin Harry Potter.”

“Stop it,” Harry said warningly. Tom just chuckled to himself. The door to the pub opened a minute later, Ron and Hermione walked in, looking around apprehensively. Tom stood up to greet them.

“You really go to this place mate?” Ron asked, sitting down.

“Once or twice,” Harry shrugged. “When we talk to talk and make sure it’s extremely private.”

“How do you do that?” Hermione asked.

Harry looked at her and shrugged, _“Simple, we just speak Parseltongue,”_ he hissed.

Ron and Hermione instinctively shivered as if Harry had said the Dark Lord’s name. Harry frowned at that and looked around, “Where is Xavier?” he asked, noticing the strange boy’s disappearance.

“He’s not coming,” Ron frowned. “I told him about it and he laughed.”

Harry nodded but didn’t feel any bad, “Well I’m not expecting a lot of people to come anyway,” he said. “Anyway, Hermione, how many people did you tell about this?”

“Just a couple of people…” Hermione said, “Oh look, this might be them, now—”

The door of the pub had opened. A thick band of dusty sunlight split the room in two for a moment and then vanished, blocked by the incoming rush of a crowd of people.

First came Neville Longbottom with Dean and Lavender, who were closely followed by Parvati and Padma Patil with Cho Chang and one of her usually giggling girlfriends, then Luna Lovegood; then Katie Bell, Alicia Spinner, and Angelina Johnson, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hanna Abbott, and a Hufflepuff girl with a long plait down her back; Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, Terry Boot; Ginny, followed by a tall skinny blond boy with an upturned nose Harry vaguely remembered from the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team, Fred and George Weasley brought up the rear with their friend whose name Harry could never remember, with Draco and Blaise hugging the outside of the crowd along with Theodore Nott.

“Funny how there seems to be so little Slytherins here,” Tom sighed. “Almost as if we know how to keep small secrets.”

Harry began to feel agitated. “A couple of people?” he said hoarsely to Hermione. “A _couple of people?”_

“Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular,” Hermione said happily. “Ron, do you want to pull up some more chairs?”

Harry sighed and turned to Tom. Glancing at the crowd, he hissed, _“What am I supposed to do? I was prepared just to teach my friends! Not this lot of, of strangers!”_

 _“Do not let the size discourage you, little snake, and do not get mad at Granger… it is not her fault that rumors and secrets get around in Hogwarts,”_ Tom hissed back, pressing the back of his fingers against Harry’s cheek.

 _“But what if Umbridge heard about it? Or Dumbledore? Both of them would find it completely suspicious that a Slytherin is gathering students in Hogs Head—oh god, I just had a horrible thought!”_ Harry panicked, looking around briefly, as if enemies were all around him.

 _“Which is?”_ Tom asked, raising an eyebrow.

 _“What if Umbridge or Dumbledore already have someone here watching us? Seeing the crowd this large—it’s almost a guarantee!”_ Harry said.

Tom gave a long sigh and moved his hands so they were both holding Harry’s shoulders. _“Calm down love, you have nothing to worry about… though your fears are reasoned. If you would like, I can look around… though the patrons here are all equally shifty-looking, I wouldn’t know which one to start with.”_

 _“Do you think Umbridge would come here herself?”_ Harry frowned.

 _“No, I do not,”_ Tom shook his head, _“I do not see Umbridge dirtying herself to come down to a pub like this. Dumbledore… however… he could simply have one of the Order members come here disguised to watch us.”_

 _“Like who?”_ Harry frowned in thought, _“Moody is too noticeable… Hagrid would stand out a mile away…”_

 _“You are thinking like a muggle, love,”_ Tom sighed. _“They are probably using a disguising spell or something, whatever it is called. I would think they use that woman, what was her name? The one who could change at will…”_

_“Tonks?”_

_“Yes, her,”_ Tom nodded. _“If Dumbledore has someone here to watch us, then it would be her since she can change at will. But never mind that love, for no one is here, at least from Umbridge… and if Dumbledore does find out, well, we are not teaching them the Dark Arts, are we? You can be truthful and say that it is a practical tutoring session.”_

Harry nodded slowly, but still frowned. _“I should have just kept this to my close friends and not told them to invite more,”_ he sighed.

 _“What is done is done, little snake, now you just have to pick up the pieces and go with it,”_ Tom said. He stood up suddenly and stretched. _“I will see you back at the castle then.”_

 _“Wha—where are you going?”_ Harry demanded.

 _“Research. There are only so many evil wizards with powerful wands to read up on._ One _of them has to have possessed the Elder Wand,”_ Tom said.

 _“You’re not going anywhere!”_ Harry said, standing up. Tom raised an eyebrow. _“I need you here… at least for support,”_ Harry whispered.

Tom sighed and shook his head. “Fine,” he whispered in English. He moved back to Harry and kissed his cheek, “However, I will not do any of the talking,” he whispered.

“Okay,” Harry nodded. He turned towards the small crowd, frowning when he noticed that they, along with the other inhabitants of the pub, was paying close attention to Harry and Tom. _I thought we were quiet with our Parseltongue,_ he thought to himself. “Hello,” he began, “to be honest I was not expecting all of you, if not half. I can assume that you all are here for the same reason… to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts… and I mean properly learn it, not the rubbish Professor Umbridge is giving us.” He was interrupted by Fred and George Weasley laughing at what he said. Harry gave them a sharp look and they were quiet. “I don’t feel like wasting time here, as it appears some of us have other matters that they deem more important than this”—he gave Tom a sharp look as well—“I do not know or care what you have heard of me either through word of mouth, _the Daily Prophet_ , gossip or your own parents. Your opinion of me is the least of my concern. Love me, like me, hate me, it does not matter. All that I want to know is are you willing to learn under me.” There was a silence. Harry looked out at the small crowd, his eyes meeting many.

“Well?” he asked in a drawl that would make Professor Snape proud, “Are you willing to learn under me?” he asked again.

A chorus of yeses and yeahs answered him.

“Good,” Harry said. “Now… because of our range, what I will teach you will naturally exceed just O.W.L.s with a focus towards practical use in the world—”

“And why would we need that? You don’t believe that rubbish, do you?” the blond Hufflepuff player said in a rather aggressive voice, “Where’s the proof that You-Know-Who’s back?”

Harry stood up fully before Hermione could argue as he saw her open her mouth. Placing his hands on the table he leaned over slightly, looking rather menacingly at the blond Hufflepuff. “Name…”

“Zacharias Smith,” the boy said, “and I think we’ve got the right to know exactly what makes you say You-Know-Who’s back.”

“Did I ever mention the Dark Lord here? Did I utter Lord Voldemort’s name?” Harry asked in a curt voice, causing the group to jump. “No, I don’t believe I have… did I? But since you’ve mentioned it, Zacharias, I think an explanation is needed.”

Before anyone could react, Harry’s wand was out and there was a shot of purple light. Zacharias Smith was forced out of his chair and slid against the ground. The crowd gasped while Harry calmly pocketed his wand. “The Dark Lord is back, make no mistake of it,” Harry said. “I have fought him last year… and if he was I just now Mr. Smith you would be dead.” He looked to the rest of the crowd and asked in a cold tone, “Does anyone else need additional explanations?” The whole group seemed to have held its breath while Harry spoke. “Good. I will not waste an afternoon convincing you lot that Lord Voldemort is back. Lord Voldemort is back, end of story, good night. If you are here just to hear me give recounts of that night in the graveyard when Cedric died, you are sorely mistaken. Leave now if that is the case.”

Nobody moved.

“Good. Now, let me repeat this again, the Dark Lord has returned, and he is something that you all should be afraid of. What I teach you will not magically protect you, I do not guarantee your safety if you decide to run foolheartedly into a group of Death Eaters, however what I will teach you will help you survive your idiotic run so that you may live to see another day.” More silence followed this. Harry looked around at the crowd, starting to feel a strange sense of thrill from the power he suddenly held. He looked and saw Hermione rummaging in her bag for something, and watched as she pulled out a roll of parchment and quill with ink.

“Potter?” Harry looked up to see the current Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, Angelina, raising her hand. “Look mate, we all want to learn from you and stuff but, I just wanted to remind you that a few of us have Quidditch practices.”

“I have yet considered which day or time we’ll meet,” Harry answered. “However, since I am sure you all want to focus on Quidditch too, give me your schedules and I will work out a time that will please all of us. However I would like to stress the importance of this, and not just for those in O.W.L. year…we are learning to fight against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. This, no matter how you would like to argue it, is much more important than a silly game of Quidditch—”

“Well said!” Ernie Macmillan barked. “Personally I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we’ll do this year, even with our O.W.L.s coming up!”

He looked around impressively, as though waiting for people to cry, “Surely not!” When nobody spoke, he went on, “I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher upon us at this critical point. Obviously they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells—”

“Thank you, for that passionate… thought, Ernie Macmillan,” Harry said, “For your information, I know why the Ministry has sent us Umbridge, it rather should be obvious, but we are not here to discuss that. We are here to discuss learning Defense Against the Dark Arts. Luckily, I have a place where we can all learn undisturbed. It is on the seventh floor, I will tell you all when I have the first date sorted out. With that out of the way—”

“I-I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here,” Hermione said, motioning towards the roll of parchment. “But I also think,” she took a deep breath as if preparing herself to say something drastic, “that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we’re doing. So if you sign, you’re agreeing not to tell Umbridge—or anybody else—what we’re up to.”

Fred reached out for the parchment and cheerfully put down his signature, but Harry noticed at once that several people looked less than happy at the prospect of putting their names on the list.

“If you do not sign… then I refuse to teach you,” Harry said simply, “It shall be much like a class roster. If your name is not there, then you do not belong here… and I might have to punish you.”

That got people to start signing. Harry watched silently as the one by one the crowd stepped up to Harry and the scroll, picked up the quill and jotted their name down. Fully signed with all their names, Hermione took the parchment back and slipped it carefully into her bag.

“Well, time’s a ticking on,” Fred said briskly, getting to his feet. “George, Lee, and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, we’ll be seeing you all later.”

The crowd left in groups of two and three.

“Well, I think that went well,” Hermione said happily, as she, Harry, and Ron walked out of the Hog’s Head. Sometime during the crowd’s leaving, Tom slipped away without a word,

“Yeah but Harry mate, where did that come from?” Ron frowned. “You reminded me of Snape there…”

“I did?” Harry asked. “I don’t know, it just came to me naturally I suppose,” he shrugged.

“Anyway, where are we going to have these lessons?” Ron asked. Harry barely considered him as he said, “That same place Xavier brought us when he told us his report. It’s a room on the seventh floor that has everything a person requires. We will use that.”

“This is exciting, isn’t it?” Hermione smiled, “Doing something against Umbridge, I mean.”

Harry nodded, though he couldn’t stop the small frown that was coming. He just wanted this to be a small thing, something between himself and his friends. But now that it’s this huge group of twenty-so people… it will require much more time and effort from him. Giving a sigh, Harry shook his head, he really shouldn’t complain, it was his idea after all. Now he just had to live with it. And besides, it will be exciting to do something that doesn’t involve Tom in any way! Though he did wish he could help Tom research…

 

Monday morning woke with a surprising announcement on the notice board in the Slytherin Dungeons. Harry and Tom pushed their way through the crowd to see a highly official-looking official with a seal and curly signature near the bottom. They regarded it with little interest.

“’All student organizations, societies, teams, groups, and clubs are henceforth disbanded…’ My, my, seems like Professor Umbridge is trying to show off her power as Inquisitor,” Tom said. “Not that it matters much…”

“Why would she even do this?” Harry frowned. “Besides to have students coming begging to her to reinstate their teams and stuff?”

“To show power, my pet,” Tom said, “Or at least to make others believe she has it.” He gave the notice board another glance before turning to the rest of the Slytherins. He gave them a long, sharp look and they began to filter away from the notice board.

“So… what should we do?” Harry asked.

“Business as usual my love, what else?” Tom asked. “I am sorry in advance also, but every break we have today I will be in the library. I feel I am on something.” Harry frowned, but nodded, knowing that it would be useless to argue with Tom over this. Instead he looked at Tom and asked, “How is research going?”

Tom frowned and glanced around, seeing Xavier Nathair by himself. “Not good,” he admitted. “All I’ve been reading about is evil wizards and all their horrible deeds; none of which include wand-stealing.”

Harry frowned. “Have you thought about… uhh what about looking up famous wands?” he suggested.

“Wands?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “I mean… it is a wand we’re looking for right?”

Tom was silent for a moment. He nodded and muttered to himself, “Yes, yes I suppose you’re right… famous wands… the Library should have a few books on those…”

“Yeah, it should,” Harry smiled, “anyway, think we should head to class? I’ll let the others know that it is still on.” But Tom was lost in his own world, muttering and mumbling to himself as the two left the dungeons.

Harry found that his mind was preoccupied during the day. Students from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff all passed by him and tried to pass him scraps of paper as if they were secret spies. When Harry opened them during lunch, he was a little annoyed to see that it was everyone’s extracurricular schedules.

“Why are they all so… busy?” he scoffed reading them off. “Honestly, it’s like they need to fill their hours uselessly.”

“Well, just be glad Draco, Theo or I aren’t in any groups,” Blaise shrugged. “How bad is it?”

“Very,” Harry frowned. “I can barely fit a couple of classes during the week… Wednesday the 9th would work but it would have to be late, I’m thinking eight… wait a minute,” Harry checked the scraps of paper again and nodded, “Alright, eight o’clock on Wednesday it is.”

“Great,” Draco said, “but how are you going to inform the others?” he frowned.

“I have my ways,” Harry said. He turned to Tom and said, “I guess you will be in the library during this time?”

“Of course,” Tom nodded. “You’ve given me a new direction to lead, so I have to look into it. Now, may we stop talking about such topics so openly? Some people might be listening in…” he glanced over at the staff table where Professor Umbridge was staring at Harry with the oddest look.

During the afternoon potion’s class, Harry made sure to move towards Hermione and Ron’s table when he left to gather ingredients. He opened his mouth, as if to whisper something, when Professor Snape caught him. “Potter! What are you doing chatting away during class?” he demanded.

“Nothing professor,” Harry said, one hand pressed on top of Ron and Hermione’s working station as he turned to look at Snape. “I just needed some more salamander blood, sir, Draco used the last of mine,” he pointed to his own working station where Draco and Tom were busy working.

“A likely story… get the blood and get back to work Potter before I deduct points,” Snape sneered.

“Yes sir,” Harry said. He left the working station and gathered a couple of vials of the blood he needed before moving back to his cauldron, ignoring Ron and Hermione. It was only when he was safely back and stirring in the blood did he glance to see that the small scrap of paper he left on the table was gone, and Hermione’s hand was just moving from her pocket.

 

Wednesday came rather quickly, but it did not matter to Tom. For while the love of his life headed off towards the Seventh Floor to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, he went back to the library, to research. It was all going as usual. He muttered a “hello” to Madam Pince. He walked around the library, gathering a variety of books on wand history, make-up, and famous wands through the ages and retreated to a table in the back of the library, where it was pressed against a table so he could watch the sky and moon when he was lost in thought. Ten minutes into his readings, and he was disturbed by a voice he didn’t expect to hear.

“I would have thought Mr. Riddle, that you would have joined Harry and the others in their learning Defense.” Tom tuned to see Professor Dumbledore standing before him, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles as he looked down at Tom, his arms held out in front of him in a casual manner. “Or, are you perhaps too used to your habitual nocturnal readings?”

“Professor Dumbledore,” Tom said, “I did not hear you… can I ask how you’ve heard about Harry’s group?”

“A funny story, that, Mundungus Fletcher was keeping an eye on both you and Harry for the Order,” Dumbledore said. “I am sure you have noticed a heavily veiled woman?”

“I presumed that was Tonks, honestly,” Tom said. “May I ask why Mundungus was dressed like a woman?”

“He has insulted the barkeep there years ago and have been banned, an amusing story to look back on from time to time,” Dumbledore said in a cheerful manner. “However, I would have thought that you would be up in that seventh floor room with Harry and the crowd of students you two somehow collected.”

“That… that is Harry’s project,” Tom said, choosing his words carefully. “I… what I’m doing here is more important than that.”

“Researching wandlore and dark wizards?” Dumbledore asked.

Tom nodded, “Yes… I’m scared, Professor.”

“Ohh?”

“Of Voldemort, the other me,” Tom frowned. “I know that Harry and I… that I have killed Voldemort in my first year, at least I’ve thought I have killed him. The Killing Curse should be final but… but…”

“The Dark Lord has risen again,” Professor Dumbledore said gravely.

Tom nodded in agreement, “Yes,” he said, “and I am scared that he will come to kill Harry… let alone what he’ll do to me. That is why I have been here for so long. I’ve been researching endlessly the past week or so trying… hoping to understand just how it is that Lord Voldemort survived. What did I do so long ago to cheat death? To become that… wraith, a spirit, only to return with a hideous body.”

“Lord Voldemort is not a wraith, Tom, nor is a spirit,” Dumbledore said. “I do not understand fully myself how Lord Voldemort cheated death as he did so; but I fear that during his travels after he graduated, he must have learned a magic most evil that the thought of it puts witches and wizards at ill.”

Tom frowned, he looked up at Dumbledore with a conviction, “What sort of magic, sir?” he asked.

Dumbledore was silent. He frowned slightly at Tom. He crossed his arms over his chest as he asked, “Tom Riddle… why would you want to know?”

“I have no want to replicate it, Sir, I’m just… trying to understand,” Tom said. “It is unsettling, knowing that a man who shares the same birth and name as me, who used to be me, could grow and do so much evil, cause so much despair in the world…”

Dumbledore relaxed. He stepped forward and sat down opposite of Tom. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“For what, sir?”

“For finally putting an old man’s worries at ease,” Dumbledore said. “I will admit, that from that moment in my office four years ago I have been anxious of you Mr. Riddle. Lord Voldemort was known for his manipulation, both before and during the war. He was once very handsome, as you are now, and he had used that to his advantage… however, he had no heart, no sincerity. And please forgive an old man for his assumptions, but I have thought the same of you. That you were walking towards the same goal as he, albeit by a different road. However, I am happy to say tonight that I am wrong. A very pleasuring sensation, if I must say.”

“Wrong, sir?” Tom frowned. “How?”

“Your eyes, they speak the truth,” Dumbledore said. “Where Lord Voldemort’s eyes were void of emotion, yours, Tom, are completely the opposite. I can feel a real sense of urgency from you, empathy and care for Harry, obviously, as well as your friends. Two emotions that Lord Voldemort lacked.”

Tom was stunned silent. He stared at Dumbledore for a moment, before recollecting himself and said, “Thank you sir… I’m happy that you’ve finally see that I am not him. However that does not bring me closer to the answer I am seeking.”

“Ah yes… how Voldemort came back,” Dumbledore sighed. “I do not know for certain, more specifically I have a theory, a theory that you and Harry have helped prove in your second year.”

“You mean the diary?” Tom said, remembering the fake diary he and Harry gave Dumbledore.

“Yes,” Dumbledore nodded. “As you know, that diary held the memory of Lord Voldemort when he was a student here at Hogwarts. A memory with its own conscious and, after he had gathered enough energy from Miss Weasley, a human-like form. I have come to a theory that it was not a memory trapped in that diary, but a soul. More specifically, Lord Voldemort’s soul.”

“The diary… was Voldemort’s soul,” Tom said slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face. “How would he have separated it? I thought souls were, well, something that always stayed whole.”

“Through a ritual and magic so dangerous and evil that I dare not utter it here,” Dumbledore said. “However, Tom, there are ways of tearing a soul. One way, in fact… the only way. You have to commit murder.”

“You have to kill someone to tear his soul in pieces or halves, then through a ritual, he inserted it into the diary,” Tom repeated. “However… that would mean that his soul was in two: the diary and himself. Both have been destroyed so how is it he is still living?”

“That, Tom, is a question whose answer yet evades me,” Dumbledore said. “However, it is troublesome and frightening. I fear that Lord Voldemort might have gone further into the Dark Arts then no wizard has before…”

“And because of what he has done, he still lives,” Tom said. He nodded and said, “I think I understand… however sir, if you would, I would still like to research dark wizards to learn more of what it is Voldemort has exceeded.”

“Naturally, curiosity is the motivator who drives us Tom, however know that it also can be a very dangerous thing,” Dumbledore said. “There is a reason why muggles say, what was it again, ahh, ‘Curiosity killed the cat.’”

“I know sir,” Tom nodded.

“And what of your books on wands?”

“That,” Tom said slowly. He pulled out his own wand and twirled it in front of Dumbledore. “Ever since I’ve brought this wand… it has been rebelling me. I need to use more effect than normal in order to perform a simple spell. It still works… however at an inefficient rate. I know that he has my wand, but until the day comes I am stuck with this. I am sure reading on wand ownership, and how it works, especially with wands that did not choose you.”

“A reasonable explanation,” Dumbledore nodded. “Wand ownership… yes, I suppose thinking on it, I too should brush up on my wandlore as well. They are fickle things, after all.” He stood up and took out his own wand.

“Sir, if I may ask, how does it feel? To use a wand that chose you?” Tom asked earnestly.

“Like an extension of your own being,” Dumbledore said simply. “Now… if I may give you a few suggestions.” He waved his wand and a small stack of books appeared on the table. “These books should lead you to the answers you see, Tom,” Dumbledore said. “As for Lord Voldemort… as of now you have nothing to fear. As far as I can tell, there have been no plans concerning you or Harry… for the time being.”

“Thank you, sir,” Tom said.

“And you should consider joining your friends in their endeavor to learn defense,” Dumbledore said. “It might be useful for when the time comes.”

“I’ll consider it sir, thank you,” Tom said. Dumbledore gave him a soft smile, his eyes twinkling with earnest relief and apology. The headmaster made his leave and Tom waited to make sure he was truly gone before exhale slowly, sinking into his chair. His heartrate was fierce, he was surprised a cold sweat only now broke. He looked at the stack of books and brought them towards him. They were all on wand-ownership. Letting out a sigh, Tom pushed Dumbledore’s books away and continued reading his own. He could not believe that what transpired was real. Dumbledore truly believed now that Tom is innocent, or at least that he and Lord Voldemort are complete opposites. A sense of euphoric relief rushed over Tom and he found himself starting to laugh. Smiling to himself, Tom looked out the window to see a clear night sky. “I already won,” he whispered to himself. “I already won…Dumbledore, thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm I’m wondering when this is done, or close to done, should I do another Tom/Harry story… or are they all becoming the same? Hmmm


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Tom felt a bit of sympathy for Harry. It was almost impossible for Harry to find a regular night for his group’s meeting, which Harry told Tom they named “Dumbledore’s Army” or D.A. for short. “I had no say, it just got rolling and I didn’t feel like arguing,” was Harry’s shrugging excuse. However, Tom was impressed slightly by the group. Granger have created a means of communication using fake Galleons that Harry can change the time and dates of the meetings on. However, Tom did not have much time to comment on Harry’s group’s progress. He had a wand to find, and an army to lead.

He had received word from the two death eaters he sent to treaty with the giants. The giants are on their side, however Dumbledore’s men, particularly Hagrid and some half-giantess, was there first. Harry and Tom heard Hagrid’s side of what happened from Ron and Hermione, and Tom didn’t really care. Really the giants are just for show in his master plan. _I’m going to kill them all anyway, so why not have them believe they are on my side,_ he thought to themselves. _They are disgusting creatures, half- or full._

December arrived, bringing with it more snow and a positive avalanche of homework for the fifth years. Tom was acting positively giddy, so much so that Harry almost expected that the boy was excited for Christmas for the first time in his life, before putting the idea out of his head. One night while Draco was out on prefect duties (supervising the Christmas decorations) Tom grabbed Harry’s hand and dragged him from the common room away from Blaise and into their dormitory.

“I cracked it!” Tom cheered, “Finally! God I’m so happy I might even join you in your… what were they called again… D.A. meetings!”

“You mean—”

“Yes! I finally figured out the long and bloody history of the Elder Wand,” Tom said, looking drunk on happiness. “And it’s all thanks to you, little snake, you were right!”

“I was?” Harry asked, confused.

“Yes love!” Tom smiled, “I was so focused on the wizards throughout history that I barely considered their _wands._ Go bring Xavier in here, I want to see his face as I explain his folly.” Harry nodded and ran away, Tom’s glee filling him too. A moment later Harry came back with Xavier Nathair following him.

“What is it Riddle? Harry told me you have good news,” the older year said, looking slightly bored and disbelieving.

“Why I do,” Tom smirked, “I have just done what you have failed do to. I have figured out the current owner of the Elder Wand.”

“Oh?” Xavier asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow, “and who is it?”

Tom gave a victorious smirk. “Sit down,” he said, motioning to Harry’s bed. “I will tell you everything, drawing the clear line from the original owner, Antioch Peverell, to it’s now current owner who will soon give it to me…”

Xavier looked skeptic, he stared up and down Tom for a moment, his lips pursed. Harry took Xavier’s arm gently and gave a soft smile,” Come on,” he whispered, “just listen to our Lord.”

At the word Lord, something snapped in Xavier and he nodded. He and Harry moved to Harry’s bed where they both sat. Xavier crossed his leg while Harry leaned gently towards Tom, fully interested in what he was about to say.

Tom looked at his small audience and said, “It begins with Antioch’s death. As we know, his throat was slit and his murderer stole the Elder Wand from him, and from there, the wand’s bloody history began. The name of the wizard is not known, but it is assumed that the wand has passed from owner to owner via murderous means, earning many names such as ‘the Deathstick’ ‘Wand of Destiny’ and ‘Deathbringer.’ The wand moved from hand to hand, its future owners slaughtering the last until it fades back into history with Emeric the Evil.

“Emeric terrorized England in his short-life during the Middle Ages. I can only assume that he obtained the wand after killing its previous owner and seeing it’s power taking it for his own. His terrorizing ended in a famous duel with Egbert the Egregious, where Egbert slaughtered him. However, afterwards Egbert did not last long and was murdered like the wand’s previous owners, and the wand fades away from history, only to emerge again with Godelot, whom I am sure you know very well Xavier…”

“He wrote _Magick Moste Evil,_ ” Xavier answered. “What about him?”

“Why, he is the next known owner of the Elder Wand, of course,” Tom said. “In his diaries, he has written, ‘My moste wicked and subtle friend, with bodie of Ellhorn, who knowes ways of magick moste evil.’ With the wand, Godelot continued to study of the Dark Arts in leaps and bounds… until he was killed by his son, Hereward, who locked Godelot in his cellar and starved him to death.

“From there the wand fades again until the early eighteenth century with Barnabas Deverill, another dark wizard who terrorized England until his death. There have been disputes about who killed him. It could have been Arcus or Livius, two lesser dark warlocks, while others claim that it was Deverill’s mother who killed him. Whoever it was does not mater as again the Elder Wand drifted from owner to owner until recent history, with the wand maker Mykew Gregorovitch.

“Gregorovitch realized its power and proceeded to study it. He was looking to duplicate its power. In order to further that study, and help his sales, he spread a rumor about him possessing the wand and its duplicates. It worked well, for a time, until one night he was hit with a Stunning spell after hearing someone sneak into his workshop, and he saw a young blond man steal the wand and climb out the window. I believe you can see where I am going with this.

“That man was Gellert Grindelwald, a Dark Lord all can inspire to. I need not tell you the terror Grindelwald caused across the world, do I? The massive massacres both he and his followers caused throughout Europe? That little sprout in New York with Newt Scamander? His epic duel with Dumbledore that led to his own defeat and imprisonment in the very prison he built, Nurmengard. All of this is excessively recorded and written about, why even now I hear Professor Dumbledore still receive interview requests about it. And why shouldn’t he? After all, Professor Dumbledore is the current owner of the Elder Wand…”

Xavier let out a loud, shrieking kind of laugh. His eyes squinted closed as tears formed, his arms moved to the side as he continued to let out this mocking laugh. Tom frowned, unamused. Harry looked between Tom and Xavier and felt a bit awkward. He stood up to stand next to Tom. When Xavier’s laughter died down, he was still smiling as he said, “Sorry my Lord, but you expect me to believe that Dumbledore just so happen to have the Elder Wand?”

“Yes, I do,” Tom said. He reached into his robes and pulled out a piece of parchment. “While you were too busy snogging Weasley, and you were busy with your little club, I had the idea to ask two experts on the matter, Dumbledore himself, and Mr. Ollivander. Dumbledore knew that I was researching wands, and so I told him a little fib about how stressed and frustrated I was that my current one doesn’t follow my every command… he then sat down and began talking. It was droll, but the main thing to come out of it was his trust. He truly believe that I am not like the old Voldemort, and that I will never become a Dark Lord,”—Harry giggled softly, causing Tom to give a sly grin—“so I used his trust, visiting him in his own office one day and asked a very simple question, ‘Can you tell me about your wand?’

“’What for?’ he asked. ‘I wanted to actually research more into wandlore, how wands are made and their properties, and I would like to begin with your sir, if you do not mind,’ I lied. The old fool fell for it and brought out his wand. Fifteen inches, white with several strange notches down it, looking almost like berry clusters. Then he began describing a wand that he did not held. ‘My wand,’ he told me, ‘is made of vine wood, a rather curious and uncommon wood, said to gather to those of beyond-ordinary vision and tend to astound those who believe they know everything about themselves. The core is a dragon-heartstring. They are powerful, easily learning powerful spells, but are quite temperamental.’ Here gave a soft grandfather-like laugh. But it got me to wonder why he would not describe the wand he was holding. Looking for more information, I’ve written to Mr. Ollivander, who confirmed what Dumbledore had said, but also added additional descriptions, including how all wands made from vines are earthy colors, unlike the white of the wand Dumbledore was holding.”

“And this led you to believe that Dumbledore holds the Elder Wand?” Xavier asked, still having some disbelief of Tom’s tale.

“Why naturally, why else would he describe a wand he wasn’t holding?” Tom asked.

“So… Dumbledore has the Elder Wand,” Harry said slowly, “but hang on… he didn’t kill Grindelwald. He’s still alive in his prison… how did he get ownership?”

“Hmm… an interesting question,” Tom said, “I thought that ownership of another’s wand would only happen if the previous owner was killed by the current, however that does not seem to be the case.”

“Perhaps you simply have to defeat them in battle?” Harry proposed.

“That is one option… but how would we know when he is defeated if he isn’t dead?” Tom asked.

“Really? Are you two so dumb?” Xavier sighed. He stood up from Harry’s bed and rolled his eyes, “Honestly, everyone knows that you win a duel as soon as you disarm your opponent. So all you have to do is disarm the old man… but good luck with that.”

He began walking away.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Tom demanded.

“To spend some time with my boyfriend, my lord,” Xavier said, “I want to spend some time with people who do not talk fancy about fairytales.” Tom glowered at him as he left.

“I swear, as soon as I have the Elder Wand, Nathair is the first person I will punish with it,” Tom muttered.

“Hey… don’t let him ruin your mood, yeah? You finally did it, you found the Elder Wand,” Harry cheered softly.

“Yeah, I did,” Tom said with the smallest of smiles. “But now a new challenge arises: how are we going to get it from Dumbledore?”

“That, my Lord, is something we can think about over break,” Harry said. “Now you should relax… in fact, I have an idea,” Harry smiled. “Why don’t you come with me on the last D.A. meeting before Christmas break? I think it would be fun.”

“Maybe… what do you have in mind?” Tom asked.

“Just going over what we have done so far,” Harry shrugged. “It’s no use to start anything new before the break, right?”

“Sounds like an idea,” Tom said. “When is it?”

“Tomorrow,” Harry said.

“Then tonight… we celebrate personally,” Tom smirked. “Now undress for your Lord, he needs your service…”

 

Harry and Tom arrived early for the D.A. meeting. Tom spent time examining the room, going over the books in a massive bookshelf, giving each a curious look before placing it back to grab another. “This is all very good, little snake,” he said, eyeing the dummies. “You have done so well… I am very proud of you.”

“Thank you Tom… seriously,” Harry smiled. He walked up to Tom and the two shared a passionate kiss just as the doors opened and people began to walk in. Tom smirked in the kiss and hissed, _“To think all our plans are working out so well… the end game is in sight my love, we just need to take our chances.”_

_“I know, my Lord,”_ Harry hissed in reply. _“However… can some of our plans wait till after our O.W.L.s? We still need to pose as regular Hogwarts students after all.”_

_“Of course… but until then, it doesn’t mean we can’t play around,”_ Tom chuckled.

_“You already filled me with your cum yesterday My Lord…”_

_“Not that type of playing, my little snake,”_ Tom chuckled. He glanced at the growing crowd and back at Harry. “Looks like everyone is here… address your class now, Professor Potter,” he snickered.

_“Shut up,”_ Harry hissed. He turned to talking crowd. “Okay!” He called out, bringing them to order. “This evening we will be going over everything we’ve learned so far, because it is the last time we will meet before the three week break.”

“We’re not doing anything new?” Zacharias Smith said, in a disgruntled whisper loud enough to carry through the room. “If I known that, I wouldn’t have come—”

“Then you are fully free to leave Smith,” Harry interrupted. “The door is just a few paces behind you.”

Smith glared at Harry but didn’t move.

“Good. Now, break into pairs. We will start with the Impediment Jinx for ten minutes before moving onto the Stunning Spell,” Harry said. He turned to Tom and said, “You’re with me obviously.”

“Just try not to lose,” Tom chuckled. Harry rolled his eyes as the room paired off obediently. The room was soon full of intermittent cries of _“Impedimenta!”_ People froze for a minute or so, during which their partner would stare aimlessly around the room watching other pairs at work, then would unfreeze and take their turn at the jinx.

Tom looked as though he was showing off. Whenever Harry cast the spell, Tom would block it with the point of his wand, leering at him while doing so. “Tom!” he huffed after several times. “The point of this is to practice casting the spell.”

“And you are casting it beautifully my snake… it’s just that you seem to be missing,” Tom smirked. “Here, let me show you how it should be done. … _Impedimenta!”_

_“Protego!”_

Tom’s spell bounced off of Harry’s shield charm and hit the ceiling. The class stopped and all turned to stare at the two of them. Tom’s sly smirk was still on his face, a faint laugh breaking his lips as he stared down his lover. Harry looked absolutely annoyed, their wands aimed at each other.

“Are we seriously doing this?” he huffed. “This class is supposed to be a review of what we all learned.”

“Then show me,” Tom said. “The Dark Lord will show no mercy and will not wait for an unfriendly spell… why should I?”

“You’re such a bastard at times,” Harry sighed.

“I know.”

All of a sudden, a tension filled the room as all practicing had stopped in order for the crowd to back away, forming a circle for the two duelers. Their wands never left their mark as Harry and Tom stared down at each other. _Why are we even doing this?_ Harry thought irritably. He took a step to the side which Tom matched. He took another step, which Tom mirrored with equal timing. The two circled the clearing, staring down at the other waiting to figure out who will make the first move. Then, as though their minds were one, they both stepped towards each other and shouted.

“ _Stupefy!_ ”

“ _Langlock!”_

The two spells met in the middle and collided, bursting in a bright colorful flash that blinded the crowd. Tom whipped his wand and howled “ _Aqua Eructo!_ ” A jet of water burst from his wand and headed towards Harry. Thinking on his feet, Harry yelled out, “ _Incendio!”_

Fire burst out in front of him, the wall of flames meeting the jet of water with a loud, hot hiss as the water turned into steam that further affected their vision. Tom laughed, “Good Harry! Very good! But… when will you go for the offensive I wonder? After all…” he whipped his wand and the steam vanished instantaneously, “…this is supposed to be a duel, correct?”

“You’re just ruining this lesson,” Harry growled out.

“No, no, no my love… I am making it interesting,” Tom purred. “After all…” he moved his wand and the water came back, moving to his arm and manifesting into a silver shield with an emblem of a snake, “won’t you agree that they would learn more viewing an actual fight?”

“I swear when we’re done, you are in so much trouble,” Harry said. “ _Stupefy!”_ Tom blocked Harry’s stunner with his shield. “ _Stupefy! Stupefy! Incendio Maxima!_ ” The two stunners flew towards Tom as fire erupted around him. The fire came and rose high into the sky before crashing like a wave. The crowd all screamed and jumped out of the way as the fire fully collided onto the floor, smoldering out to reveal nothing but stone.

Confusion filled the room. “Where is he?” “What happened?” Is he dead?” Over there!”

Harry turned around just in time to see Tom standing only a centimeter in front of him, his wand pressed against his chest. “Expelliarmus,” Tom sighed. Harry was pushed back from the force of the spell, his own wand flying out in the air and into Tom’s waiting hand with a simple summoning charm.

“He lost…” “Harry lost…” “Tom won…” “Duels are really going to be like that?” “I’m scared!”

Tom looked at Harry’s wand and smiled. “Ownership of wands is transferred in duels in the case of the loser’s defeat and disarmament… Or, in other words, mastery of wands can be shifted with a simple Disarming charm.” He pocketed his own wand and examined Harry’s wand, “that is, of course, if such a wand is ‘completely unsentimental’ which… I believe there is only one wand in the world that is entire like that. Even now my love, I can feel your wand aching to be back with you. It is comfortable with me… but it knows it’s true master…”

With a twirl, he offered Harry the base of his wand, gently holding onto the tip, _“Just as you know your true master,”_ He hissed out with a lecherous, sly look on his face. Harry grabbed his wand and stood up by himself. Dusting himself off, he looked around at the crowd.

“Well?” he said, “Get the pillows out! You’re practicing Stunning.”

The class sprung into action. The room was full of shouts of the Stunning Spell for the next hour, people flying into laid out pillows. Tom played nice, keeping to the stunning spell for a while before joining Harry as the two roamed around. At the end of the hour, Harry called a halt.

“You’re getting really good,” he said, beaming around at them. “When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some of the big stuff—maybe even Patronuses.”

There was a murmur of excitement. The room began to clear in the usual twos and threes; most people wished Harry a Happy Christmas as they went. Feeling cheerful, he collected up the cushions with Ron, Hermione, and Tom and stacked them away.

“I wonder love,” Tom said as they left, “if you will still be able to produce a Patronus with all those evil thoughts in your mind.”

Harry thought for a moment. He pulled out his wand, kissed Tom’s cheek and whispered, “ _Expecto Patronum!”_

The Silver Stag burst out of his wand. Harry smirked at it and winked at Tom, “I’m still innocent in some ways my Lord,” he chuckled.

“And cheeky,” Tom said. Harry dismissed the Patronus. Harry giggled as Tom wrapped an arm around his waist. They made their way slowly down the corridors and to the Grand Staircase, talking softly to each other about nothing mostly. When they reached the third floor, they stopped when they heard whispering. “Hang on,” Harry said. They listened closely and frowned.

“It sounds like Ron,” Harry said. “But I thought he returned to Gryffindor common room.”

“Would you like to follow?” Tom asked.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “But I don’t have my cloak…”

“We shall be silent. Follow me,” Tom said. They followed the strange whispers of Ron and someone else down the right-hand corridor on the third floor. Harry remembered the corridor as the one Dumbledore forbade entry in his first year. The voices were growing louder and, in Harry’s mind a bit lewder.

“…I’m a fucking Dark Wizard, you will listen to me,” Ron’s voice growled out, followed by a slap.

“Oh yeah?” a voice laughed, “well you hit like a pansy—ahh!” The two stopped as they immediately recognized the voice as Xavier, and the scream they thought it was, was a definite moan. Tom recognized what was happening immediately and stopped in his tracks while Harry continued to sneak on. One of the doors I the corridor was left ajar and Harry stopped right before it, pressing his face against the small slit to look inside.

He let out a silent gasp as he watched his best friend manhandle Xavier, the older boy laid out on a desk, one of Ron’s hands on his throat while the other on his pelvis, furiously jerking off Xavier’s dick while he roughly fucked him.

Harry backed away slowly, a blush crawling up his cheeks as his own groin began to harden. Tom chuckled softly and took Harry’s arm, “You really should leave them to their pleasures, little snake,” he whispered.

“I… didn’t know Ron had it in him,” Harry blushed.

Tom chuckled and shook his head lightly, “Maybe we should give him more responsibilities… other than keeping Xavier Nathair in line. From the sound of it, he really does want to be a Dark Wizard.”

“But I want him on my side, not yours,” Harry said. “You know, the whole fake war thing I had going on?”

“He will be on both our sides love,” Tom said in a comforting tone, “maybe I should teach Ron a few lessons of my own over the break… if we can find somewhere private in Sirius’s home.”

“You mean our home,” Harry smiled. They began to walk quietly away from Ron and Xavier, their moans softening the further away they walk.

“Yes… our home,” Tom nodded. “It still sounds surreal, doesn’t it? That we’ve a home now and never have to go back to the orphanage ever again.”

“Yeah it does,” Harry nodded. “But… I kind of love it. You know, having an actual home… people eagerly waiting for us to return instead of Matron… I want to hold onto this new feeling for as long as possible.”

“You will hold onto it forever my love,” Tom promised. “As soon as the Elder Wand is ours, we can end this conflict swiftly, take control of both sides and force a peace, obliterating anyone who opposes it of course.”

“You think it’ll actually work?” Harry asked. They stopped, they were at the foot of the Grand Staircase.

“Of course, it will,” Tom said. “I promised you that we will become greater Dark Lords than Lord Voldemort, and that is exactly what I intend to achieve. All you have to do is believe and trust in me.”

“You know I already do that,” Harry said. “I’ll follow you to the end of the world and back!”

“Thank you, Harry,” Tom smiled. “Come, I still have some packing to do. …And perhaps it would be a good idea for me to write to Sirius more often.”

“Yeah, I should write more to him too,” Harry nodded. He smiled and tugged Tom’s hand, “Come on!” he said in a happier voice, “Let’s go pack up to go home!”


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was surprisingly festive. The portraits of Sirius’s relatives were all hidden behind their curtains, and on each curtain hung a Christmas wreath, a particularly large one with candles humming Christmas tunes as they burnt was on top of the curtain that was covering Sirius’s mother. With some help from Tom, Sirius found a way to silence the portraits so they don’t scream at the slightest of sounds. In the only clean living room was a Christmas tree decorated with any Christmas decorations they could find. Most of it was dusty and dingy-looking, but Mrs. Weasley used her best cleaning spells to make the decorations look half-decent, Tonks helping by making the ceiling look like it’s snowing after failing several times.

It was Christmas Eve and Harry and Tom convinced Sirius to allow them to sleep in the same room by themselves. They were naked, sitting on their beds pushed together. “So… I want to make sure everything is set,” Tom said.

Harry nodded. He absentmindedly touched his cock as he moved closer to Tom, sitting thigh-to-thigh. Tom saw this and chuckled. He swatted Harry’s hand away and smirked, “We should lock this up one day, see how it feels,” he said.

“That’s an idea,” Harry moaned. He moved his hand to touch his cock again but Tom kept it covered. “Tom!”

“Like I said love, we need to make sure everything is set,” Tom said.

“Fine,” Harry huffed. “But Tom, it’s Christmas! And I have a very special gift to give you…”

“Oh do you?” Tom smirked. “Well you can give me that gift after we are done…”

Harry smiled and leaned his hands behind him as he laid down on the bed. Tom kept one hand covering Harry’s crotch while the other petted his stomach. “So, you going to be a good boy?” Tom joked.

Harry nodded.

“Good. Now, the dementors and Death Eaters are set. To break their comrades out of Azkaban at a moment’s notice. I have a letter here from one of the Death Eaters… Yaxley I believe his name was.” Tom stood up, giving Harry a nice view of his pale small ass and thick long soft cock. He took a letter sitting on a nearby dresser and sat back down next to Harry, his hand returning to cover Harry’s cock and balls. He opened the letter and read it to Harry. “ _’My Lord, as per your instructions, we stand ready with the dementors to break out our loyal comrades imprisoned in Azkaban. Myself as well as a dozen other are prepared to Apparate them into safe locations and hide them as they recover for your strike against the Ministry and Dumbledore.’_ Honestly my love, I feel almost bad at how gullible they are,” Tom sighed. He slowly gripped Harry’s cock and smirked as he felt it pulse under his touch. “However, they are providing to be useful, and as long as that remains, they’ll draw breath. Now… with all our Death Eaters here, I believe we should talk about we are to… _infiltrate_ Hogwarts,” Tom said as he pressed a skilled finger against the head of Harry’s dick, opening the piss hole slightly.

Harry did his best to hold back a moan.

Tom smirked and kept his finger where it was. “Well Harry… do you have any suggestions?” he asked as though nothing was happening. Harry groaned and bit his lip.

“We can do it aft—”

“I know, after our O.W.L.s,” Tom said, pressing his finger harder against Harry’s piss hole. “But how exactly will we do it, I wonder…”

Harry moaned harder as Tom abused his small hole, he never felt anything so strange down there. He took deep breaths as he tried to think. After a few moments, he said, “The secret passage… under Honeydukes. We can stun the owners and sneak the Death Eaters through there.”

“That is an excellent idea my love,” Tom smirked. “With no one knowing of these secret passages, it won’t be watched. We can have the Death Eaters floo directly into Honeydukes then go through the secret passage into Hogwarts.”

“What will we have them do when they’re in?” Harry asked.

“Simple, cause chaos,” Tom chuckled. “The Death Eaters will run amok, causing an unimaginable amount of damage… well, Dumbledore will obviously be worried about us so he will look for us… hopefully bring us someplace safe with him… and if not we can convince him to do so, it will be an easy task I am sure. Afterwards, while the Death Eaters are busy with Hogwarts’ staff and the Order, for they will be called upon, we will simply deal with Dumbledore.”

“Disarming him first, right?” Harry asked.

“Of course my little snake, that will leave him defenseless,” Tom nodded. “And with Dumbledore gone and the Elder Wand in my possession… nothing will stop us.”

“But… once Dumbledore is dead, what will we do with the Death Eaters in the castle?” Harry asked.

“Hmm…” Tom hummed thumbing Harry’s piss slit. “What to do with the Death Eaters… we will need them afterwards… for a while.”

“For what?” Harry asked.

“We need a bit of a war after all,” Tom chuckled. “We cannot end it with just one battle…”

“But! Wouldn’t it be better if… if you and I defeat them here and now?” Harry asked. “It’ll look better I think… Tom Riddle and Harry Potter defeating the Dark Lord and his followers, saving the Wizarding World then and there. The Death Eaters flee and we can kill them later in the shadows while in the public eye’s we’ll be heroes. It’ll be easier for me to rise in the Auror’s department and you to the Minister’s position. And then we can make the world we want.”

Tom stared at Harry for a moment. A sadistic smile grew on his face. He squeezed Harry’s cock and balls hard while his hand pushed on Harry’s chest, making the boy fall while he screamed in pain. “You are so smart little snake,” he said.

“Ahh… thank you Daddy,” Harry breathed.

“We will kill Dumbledore, defeat the Death Eaters, and Harry Potter and his Dark Master will rise to high-ranking professions…” Tom chuckled. “An excellent idea my little snake…”

Harry smiled through the pain, Tom’s tight grip on his cock and balls surprisingly making him horny. “I’m happy you like the idea Daddy,” he said, his voice high and breathy. “Now… can I give you my present?”

Tom chuckled. He gave Harry’s cock one final squeeze before moving his hand away. “Yes little snake… show me my present,” he said.

Harry smiled and stood up. He stood in front of Tom and bend downwards, his hands spreading his butt cheeks apart, revealing an amethyst jewel pushed into his ass. “Pull it out Daddy,” Harry giggled. Tom smirked at the sight and reached for the jewel. “My… what a naughty slut you are little snake,” Tom chuckled. “What do you have pushed in here?”

Harry just wiggled his butt in response, giggling. Tom wrapped his fingers around the jewel and pulled. The amethyst slowly pulled out of Harry’s hole. It expanded and began to puff slightly, a perfect red ring showing around the sex toy as it became longer and longer, transitioning from the jewel into a long, thick purple dildo. It was slick with lube. “So big…” Tom chuckled. “When did you become such a slut?”

“With Daddy’s training,” Harry giggled. “There’s more…”

And there was, the thick dildo seemed to neverendingly pull out of Harry’s ass, adding inch upon inch until it reach an insane length of fifteen inches where the fake cockhead finally showed it self. Harry moaned as it came out with a slick pop, leaving his hole puffy and gapping. Tom’s cock hardened at the sight of the open hole. Harry’s hand reached down and fingered himself, pulling his ass hole farther apart. “Fuck my cunt,” he whispered.

Tom smirked. He stood up and roughly grabbed Harry’s hips before thrusting his hard cock into Harry’s cunt, making the boy scream out. “Gladly,” he said. His pace was rough, Harry’s cunt felt hot and loose, as though he was a used whore and it turned Tom on more and more. It felt a little different than the past times, not as tight, but hotter. He was surprised to find, however, that the harder he fucked Harry, the wetter his hole became with a thick sticky fluid. “Fuck little snake, what did you do?” he groaned, stopping.

Through pants, Harry answered, “I found a dark arts book that changes the body temporarily… I used a potion and spell to turn my ass into a real cunt. I just wanted to practice this for later… in case you want children.”

Tom’s eyes brighten. A demonic smirk filled his lips as he began to slowly fuck Harry. “You gave yourself a pussy… just so I can fill you with my seed,” he said. “Harry Potter, my devilish little snake, I love you so much.”

“I love you too Daddy,” Harry mewled. With Harry’s soft mewls and moans encouraging Tom, the older boy started fucking Harry roughly again, loving the slick wet feeling of Harry’s new hole. He was surprised to see that Harry’s cock didn’t get fully hard, but stopped at a half-state where it was clearly aroused. He reached and began jerking it in rhythm of his thrusts.

The new sensation was too much for the boys and they began to scream out loud, the room full of their passionate love-making as Tom leaned down on Harry’s back and bit his neck hard as his cock shuttered and flooded Harry’s ass-pussy with his cum. Harry screamed and came as well, from both his cock and pussy, his fluids coating Tom’s cock and mixing with his cum as it leaked out of Harry’s hole as Tom pulled out. Harry immediately turned around and got on his knees to clean his Daddy’s cock.

“That was amazing,” Tom breathed. “How long until…”

“Until my hole turns back to normal?” Harry asked. “by morning. And no need to worry about getting me pregnant… I haven’t done those spells yet.”

Tom smirked. “Then, Harry, I think we need to experiment more with that boypussy of yours… ride your Daddy.”

“Yes Daddy,” Harry giggled.

 

It was early morning when both boys became exhausted. Harry’s hole never felt so full and good in his life. He groaned as he felt the change, his ass tightening up to it’s normal puckered state, his and Tom’s mixture of cum leaking out. The two fell asleep in each other’s arms, their bodies covered in cum, yet they did not care. When they woke, there was a good haul of presents sitting at the edge of their beds.

“Tom! Tom! Wake up!” Harry smiled. “Presents!” He seemed like a little innocent boy as he scrambled naked out of bed to their pile, immediately separating them for his presents. Tom woke up annoyed, and only grumbled softly as he joined his love.

It was a good haul. Hermione has given Harry a book that resembled a diary, except that it said things like _“Do it today or later you’ll pay!”_ every time he opened a page.

“My diary is better,” Tom muttered. “He’s much more silent.”

Sirius and Lupin had given Harry a set of excellent books entitled _Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts,_ which had superb, moving color illustrations of all the counterjinxes and hexes it described. Harry flicked through the first volume while Tom examined his pile of fictions and non-fictions, with titles such as _Withering Wands,_ and _Dark Mages of Medieval Past_. “Good thing to know our Dads will always know what to get us,” Tom muttered to himself as Harry examined the large box of Every-Flavor Beans from Ron and the usual hand-knitted jumper and mince pies from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

At the bottom of the pile was a simply-wrapped present from Tom. Harry picked it up and turned to Tom, who was reading the book of Dark Arts Harry given him. “Tom! You shouldn’t have,” he breathed, holding the wrapped present.

“Open it,” Tom commanded. Harry did so and blushed. Inside was five small skimpy jockstraps, barely big enough to hold Harry’s cock and balls. “I’ve read that a good submissive always have a constant reminder and rules in place to remind them of their Daddy. This is mine. From now on, you will wear these instead of your regular underwear. For the first week you are allowed to wear both just to get the feeling, but afterwards you will throw away or burn all of your underwear. I want us to get back into the habit of you wearing only the clothes that I buy for you. It is difficult with our school uniform, but this is just a first step. However, my love, like all things, it is up to you to follow the rules and put them in place. So what do you say?”

Harry picked up a jock and smiled at it. He stood up and stepped his long pale legs into them, snapping the elastic bands against his skin. It felt strangely good. His soft cock and balls were cupped in the green fabric, pushed up against his body while the bands pushed up and made his ass look fuller. It was tight, but comfortable. “Yes Sir,” Harry nodded.

“Good boy,” Tom breathed, and he stood to meet Harry in a long kiss. Their arms wrapped around each other and they slowly grinded their bodies against one another as their kiss continued. Harry felt Tom’s cock grow against his and pulled away cheekily. “So… until O.W.L.s…”

“Until O.W.L.s,” Tom agreed.

“Harry! Tom! Come down!” Sirius’s voice yelled out throughout the house merrily. “Remus and I have excellent news!”

 

The plan went perfectly. Harry and Tom did not have to be there when the time arrived around the first week they came back to Hogwarts. It was a snowy day, and yet there was a serious tension in the air as the owls deliver their mail. An owl dropped a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ in front of Tom, and he smoothed it out and made a small noise. “Hm…”

“What is it?” Harry asked.

Tom glanced around and hissed, _“A day beyond schedule,”_ and he shown Harry the newspaper. His eyes immediately went to the ten black and white photographs that filled the whole of the front page, nine showing wizards’ faces and the tenth, a witch’s. Some of the people in the photographs were silently jeering; others were tapping their fingers in the frame of their pictures, looking insolent. Each picture was captioned with a name and the crime for which the person had been sent to Azkaban.

Harry recognized some of them from the night he and Tom went to Azkaban with Mr. Malfoy. Tom pointed to the headline, his mouth pierced with annoyance.

 **MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN**  
MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS “RALLYING POINT”  
FOR OLD DEATH EATERS

The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there has been a mass breakout from Azkaban.

Speaking to reporters in his private office, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, confirmed that then high-security prisoners escaped in the early hours of yesterday evening, and that he has already informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the dangerous nature of these individuals.

“We find ourselves, most unfortunately, in the same position we were two and a half years ago when the murderer Sirius Black escaped,” Fudge said last night. “Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this magnitude suggests outside help, and we must remember that Black, as the first person ever to break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to help others follow in his footsteps. We think it likely that these individuals, who include Black’s cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, have rallied around Black as their leader. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals and beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached.”

 _“Except we are to meet them tonight,”_ Tom hissed. _“It is horrible, however, that they blame our father…”_

Harry nodded. It felt strange calling Sirius their father, but after his and Remus’s announcement on Christmas… it was just becoming more and more official.

“I hate that they’re blaming him,” Harry sighed. “But what can we do?”

“Well he can’t blame anyone else, can he?” Tom asked. “After all, he is still refusing that I exist, especially after spending the last half-year viciously saying you and Dumbledore are liars. It would look horrible if he goes back on his word now.”

“But still… can’t we do something for Sirius?” Harry asked. “I hate that he gets blamed so easily for this.”

“We’ll clear his name when we have the power to, don’t worry…” Tom said soothingly. “For now, however, you have to prepare yourself. For as I said, _We are going to personally meet these… ‘dangerous individuals’ tonight. And hopefully, Snape will not know.”_

Harry nodded, his stomach tightening as he thought about meeting these dangerous Death Eaters. He knew that they were useful for now, and he would never say it out loud in front of Tom however…

He just wanted them dead.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

Harry stayed in the darkness for the meeting, hidden under the Invisibility Cloak as Snape was there. The meeting was held in Malfoy Manor like always, Tom, disguised in his black robe, stood in the center of a larger crowd than usual. Harry could feel the intensity, the power, and insanity radiating from the new members. The room was darkly lit as usual, the fire place and a couple of candles providing light, the flame’s illumination licking off the pale gaunt faces of the new additions. Harry’s eyes couldn’t stop but linger on the sole woman in the group. Her hair a twisted mess of shiny black, she had heavy-lidded eyes and long eyelashes. She was a tall woman, and something about her made Harry feel a terrible fear. Her eyes were glinting madly, so full of life compared to the haunted, almost soulless look the other escapees held. Voldemort stopped circling the inner clearing and stood in the center.

“My brothers, my sisters,” Voldemort began. “We are gathered together to celebrate the most anxious return of those who has always been loyal to their Dark Lord. Antonin Dolohov, Bellatrix Lestrange, Rasbastan and Rodolphus Lestranges, Augustus Rookwood, Travers… and Mulciber. You six have shown truer devotion to their Lord than any of my followers. And with that comes a certain sense of praise.”

He paused, and looked around the room slowly; the escapees all had a sense of pride about them while some of the other Death Eaters had a look of shame, of guilt of their cowardness. Snape’s face, however, remained as stoic as it always has been. Voldemort noticed this, “Severus, why must you look so serious on a night of celebration?” he asked, slithering his way towards Snape.

Snape looked as though he was thinking up an answer as his concentration tensed up for a second before relaxing. “I am merely wondering, my Lord, what your next move will be… and what information you wish for me to report to Dumbledore.”

“Ah yes, always with business then,” Voldemort said. He moved to the center of clearing again where a throne-like chair appeared. He sat in it. Looked at his followers, and turned his gaze for a second to where Harry was hiding. _“Shall we begin?”_ he hissed.

 _“Yes my Lord…”_ Harry hissed back, smirking in delight at the fear the Death Eaters all held at the sound of Parseltongue. _“I will summon snakes to slither around, to make it so you are talking to them… Serpensortia!”_ There was a small flash under the cloak, unseen by all as snakes burst out of Harry’s wand, fell to the floor, and slithered angrily away. The snakes moved towards the crowd of Death Eaters, slithering and twisting their ways around and through their feet towards the Dark Lord.

Voldemort ignored them as he focused on his followers. “Dumbledore will die this year, Hogwarts will be mine… the Ministry will fall to my rule. Or else you will die in the attempt,” he began. “Not now, however, but in June… to give our returners time enough to recover and practice their spells. It would be a shame to have you fall now due to a lack of practice. There is a passage way into the castle, a route that only I know of. That I shall reveal on the day we strike. Until that day, rest, and be vigilant. For you never know when I will call you.”

There was a silence. Harry stayed in his place as the Death Eaters nodded slowly. Snape, having a curious look as ever. “My Lord, if I may…” he said, bowing down. Voldemort motioned for him to speak. “What day should I tell Dumbledore?”

“We strike at the beginning of June,” Voldemort said. “That should give Dumbledore something to worry about until the true day we do strike.”

“And… that is?”

 _“Crucio.”_ Snape fell to the floor as the torturing curse hit him. Voldemort kept a dull look about him as he held the spell, not caring about the screams the man gave or the look of pity or winces from his other followers, though they did not step up to help Snape. For ten solid minutes, Voldemort kept the spell on Snape, his expression never changing as the snakes gathered around his throne, climbing up to drape his body. When he finally released the spell, someone took a step towards Snape. “Do not help the fool,” Voldemort said, “unless you wish to share his fate.”

The Death Eater stopped. Snape’s body convulsed for a couple minutes until he gained enough energy and control to stagger back to his feet. He immediately fell to his knees and said, “Forgive me my Lord, I’ve forgotten my place.”

“Indeed…” Voldemort said slowly. “I find your lack of faith in your lord disturbing, Severus. I hope that yours is the only faith in this room that needs… reminding… of why you follow your Dark Lord.” The room did not move. Harry could taste the fear rising and couldn’t help but give a sadistic smirk, giggling softly.

“Parkinson!” the Dark Lord said suddenly, “Step forward.”

Mr. Parkinson stepped towards Voldemort and fell to his knees automatically, crawling pitifully to the Dark Lord and kissed the hem of his robes.

“Parkinson, you are faithful to your Lord… are you not?” Voldemort asked, eyeing the man down.

“Yes, yes, I am my Lord,” Parkinson nodded quickly.

“And you would do as your Lord commands?” Voldemort inquired, a growing smirk the snakes around his throne seemed to sense the Dark Lord’s mirth. They coiled around his body, hanging loosely from his neck like a necklace, wrapping around like a bracelet, and some moved closer to the trembling Parkinson, hissing angrily and baring their poisonous fangs.

“Yes…yes my Lord,” Parkinson nodded. Harry could see that the man was starting to get nervous. His doggish face was turning red, his bald forehead shining in sweat as his neck and jowls trembled slightly.

“Good… of course you would, you are faithful to your Lord, as a good follower should be,” the Dark Lord said. He was now twirling his wand between his fingertips. Harry sensed immediately what was going to happen. And though a small part of him wished for it to stop, a larger, darker side of him wanted to watch, wanted to see every nanosecond of the upcoming event. So, still under the security of the Invisibility Cloak, he snuck closer to the circle, squeezing through a small gap of the followers into the inner clearing, and tip-toed towards the chair in the center, his eyes never leaving Mr. Parkinson.

The snakes sensed his presence, but did nothing, only looked lazily in the direction Harry should have been standing if he was not invisible for a second. Voldemort ignored him.

“Tell me… Parkinson… would you die for your Lord? For his cause?”

Mr. Parkinson looked up for the first time. “My Lord?” he said, shocked.

“Would you die for your Lord, Mr. Parkinson?” the Dark Lord asked again, emotionless as he continued to twirl his wand slowly between his fingertips.

There was a look of doubt on Mr. Parkinson’s face, but it lasted only a second before he looked up at his Lord again and nodded slowly. “Yes… Yes I will die for you, My Lord. That is how strong my faith in you is,” he said.

“Good,” the Dark Lord smirked. He relaxed in his seat. “Then I command you to die.”

“My Lord please do—”

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

With a flash of green light, Mr. Parkinson’s body fell dead in front of Lord Voldemort. He glanced at the snakes surrounding him, and with a finger commanded them. The snakes encompassed the freshly dead body, leaving no trace of skin or cloth from their slimy, slithering green and gray scales.

“I wish to speak to our brothers and sister who escaped Azkaban’s horrors alone,” Lord Voldemort said. “The rest are dismissed.” Snape was the first to leave, looking anxious, while the others left one by one, some giving the body one last look while others simply avoided it.

Soon, it was just the eight of them, the six escapees, Lord Voldemort, and Harry. They were quiet, the snakes’ hissing being the only sound. Voldemort waited until they were done, slithering away from the body, which now resembled a husk with chunks tore off. A smell filled the room and Harry had to clamp a hand on his mouth to keep from gagging.

The Dark Lord looked at his followers, and stood up slowly. “My friends,” he said, spreading his arms as though he was indeed greeting old friends, “I wanted to reward you all tonight, for showing unwavering devotion to your Lord.”

The Death Eaters stepped closer to the Dark Lord by his motion. He held out his hand to Bellatrix Lestrange first, “Your arm,” he said.

“My Lord,” Lestrange said, looking honored as she extended her left arm and pulled up the sleeve, revealing her inner forearm and the black Dark Mark tattooed on it. Voldemort pressed his wand against the mark and Bellatrix let out a strange, almost erotic noise as the Mark burned a hot, vivid red. Steam boiled from her skin, as though the Dark Mark was being seared fresh into it before it began to fade to black again. Lestrange held her arm up and admired her Dark Mark as Voldemort moved from one to the next, doing the same procedure.

“A gift,” Voldemort said. “Power. My Power. Used to kill my enemies. I expect you will use it well when the time is needed.”

“Yes my Lord… thank you, my master,” Bellatrix Lestrange said first, the others saying their thanks after her.

Voldemort dismissed them. Once the room was empty, Tom took off his robe, revealing his night robes, and sat down in the throne-like chair. “What did you do to them? Really?” Harry asked, taking off the Invisibility Cloak.

“An interesting spell I found one day while reading,” Tom said, holding out his arms for Harry. The smaller boy moved around and sat on Tom’s lap, nuzzling into his lover. “It is my power inside them now, that is not a lie, and it is used to kill my enemies… them to be precise. Their marks now hold the collective poison from all those lovely snakes you’ve conjured. Taken, quite subtly I might add, from our friend Mr. Parkinson.” He looked down at the body and smirked. “When the need arise I can simply just… activate the spell. The poisons will rush through their bloodstream and they die simply like that.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis. “And with that, my love, my little snake, the most dangerous of Death Eaters will be out of our way for the better future.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Tom nodded.

They shared a smile and slowly kissed, their lips meeting together tenderly. “God, I love you so much Harry,” Tom sighed.

“I love you too Tom,” Harry smiled. “You’re my everything. I would kill for you…” He murmured as he rested his body against Tom’s, closing his eyes momentarily. Tom wrapped his arms around Harry and kissed the top of his head. Resting on it, he whispered, “I know, little snake, I know…”

 

The thought of what was going to happen, of the Death Eaters storming Hogwarts, getting the Elder Wand for Tom from Dumbledore, killing the old man and their enemies kept Harry going as the school year continued on. Shortly after the meeting, Harry thought that he and Tom were at a roadblock. Umbridge found out about the D.A. and where they were practicing. She used the club as ammunition to take control of Hogwarts, and though Harry thought Dumbledore was going to be arrested, the old man fled with Fawkes. Harry worried that Dumbledore was gone forever, but Tom comforted him. “He loves Hogwarts too much, little snake. Threaten it, and he will come…”

Hogwarts under Umbridge was totalitarian. It seemed to Harry that every day Umbridge was introducing new “Educational Decrees” to make life as miserable as possible. Harry felt he had to become a mute just to stay from getting in trouble with the woman. However, with each day that clicked closer to his O.W.L.s, Harry felt that his excitement for the coming chaos outweighed his anger, his stress, and his anxiety for Umbridge and the tests themselves. After all, Tom is tutoring him. He can never fail when he has his Daddy with him.

Harry soon found out that his mail, along with everyone else’s’, were being watched. This made him feel more sad then anything, as he couldn’t write to Sirius and Remus directly as long as Umbridge was in charge. Thankfully, Ron was kind enough to propose sending the letters to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who can then forward it to his adoptive fathers.

And this was how Harry lived, suffering under Umbridge’s rule, seeking refuge in Tom’s arms and secreting letters to the two men he loved a little less than his boyfriend. Days became weeks, weeks turned into months and months went on slowly, screaming in agony, waiting to be released into an orgasmic, destructive rush that June will bring.

Finally, before they knew it, it was time for Harry and Tom to take their O.W.L. exams. The exams were taken over a period of two weeks. Theory in the morning, practical in the afternoon. With Tom’s help, Harry never felt anxious about performing the spells, or crafting the potions when the need arise. The two made sure to sit together, or as close together as possible, able to hide their Parseltongue beneath the scribbling of quills on parchment. Each night they celebrate the only way they know how and repeat the process again the next day.

At last, at the end of their final exam, History of Magic, Harry and Tom convened together in the Slytherin Common Room, smirking to themselves. “When will we do it?” Harry asked, his body shaking with excitement.

Tom pulled Harry close and kissed him heatedly. “Tomorrow night, Friday night, we shall strike. Spread to word around the common room, make sure that nobody goes out to help… no, do that tomorrow. Tonight…” One of his hands drifted downwards towards Harry’s ass, gripping it tightly, “tonight I want to fuck your pussy Harry Potter.”

Harry smiled lewdly and giggled as he pulled Tom upstairs with one hand, his other reaching for his wand.

The next day, they’ve spent it warning the Slytherins to not step outside. It was early night, around six, when they left through the secret tunnel connecting Hogwarts and Honeydukes. “Follow me,” Tom whispered, and the two snuck up the wooden stairs that led to the storefront. They ignored the door leading to the store itself and followed a second wooden staircase further up into the flat above.

The sounds of soft snoring could be heard as Tom silently opened the door. “We just need to make sure they don’t wake up,” he whispered. “Put them in a deeper sleep.”

Harry nodded. They crept through the old-fashioned apartment, Harry not paying attention to the decoration as he was too focused on his task, and moved into a small bedroom mostly filled by an antique-looking bed where the old couple who runs the store below lied sleeping. Tom pulled out his wand and moved around the bed to the wife while Harry aimed his wand at the husband. _Somnus aeterna,”_ they both whispered. A faint glow came from their wandtips and washed over the couple. Their snores continued, and Tom smirked, satisfied.

“Come on,” he said in a louder voice, “let’s go get our followers.”

A few minutes later, Harry and Tom were back at Malfoy Manor, this time Mr. Malfoy was dressed and waiting for them. “Still should have warned me about Parkinson,” the man grumbled.

“Why should I?” Tom said cockily. “It wasn’t as though you’ve liked the man.”

“He and his family have been a pain, but still to murder him in my own home?”

“I needed the poison,” was Tom’s explanation. Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak over him as Tom summoned the Death Eaters. They waited, and soon the room was full, once more, wit the Dark Lord’s faithful.

“Tonight, we strike,” Voldemort said. “Hogwarts is vulnerable, tired from a year of education, and missing her true headmaster. Tonight, she will serve as our battleground, and Dumbledore will die with his Order and Ministry!” He paused as the Death Eaters cheered, smirking, he looked directly at Snape. “To avoid notice, we shall travel to Hogsmeade, and I will show you the passage we shall use into Hogwarts, hidden under the sweets shop the students are fond of. Severus, stay with Lucius. You two shall travel last. Bellatrix, keep them company.”

Harry smiled when he saw a twinge of fear in Snape’s face. He listened as Voldemort ordered the Death Eaters, telling them when to travel to Hogsmeade and in what order. When he was done, Voldemort tapped his wand and black smoke erupted from it. He and Harry left the room through the fireplace, the black smoke hiding the green flames, and they appeared back in Honeydukes. They waited in the basement, just outside the trapdoor, which laid open.

In Ones and twos the Death Eaters appeared, and Voldemort ordered them through the trapdoor. Their wands all in their hands, the secret feeling of war brimming inside them all as they snuck through Honeydukes and into the trapdoor. Snape was last to arrive with Bellatrix Lestrange. Voldemort watched as the two secreted into the trapdoor. “Snape, wait,” Voldemort said.

Severus Snape stopped as Lestrange continued. “My Lord?”

“Tell me… do you know my façade?” Voldemort asked.

“My Lord… I do not understand,” Snape said.

Voldemort chuckled darkly. “I asked,” he said slowly as his hands reached for his black robe and pulled it off, revealing his face and body, “if you knew of my façade.” Tom smirked as shock filled Snape’s face.

“I guess not,” Tom chuckled.

“Mr. Riddle…”

“Harry, show yourself,” Tom chuckled. Confused, Harry pulled off his Invisibility Cloak. “Tom?”

“I just wanted to see what will happen now,” Tom smirked. “Well Severus?”

Snape looked between the two of them. “Dumbledore—”

“Will die tonight by our hands, isn’t that right Harry?” Tom asked.

Harry nodded. “He will,” he said, catching on quickly. “So Snape? Who will you serve? Dumbledore… or us? _Either way, you most likely will end up dead…”_

Snape faltered, looking at both boys, an unreadable expression on his face. Tom and Harry just stared at him, looking bored, expectantly, at the man. Snape looked ashamed, but hid it quickly as he turned around and went down into the trapdoor.

Harry and Tom shared a victorious look and interlocked hands. “Let’s have fun tonight my love,” Tom said. “Just follow my lead.”

“Always Tom,” Harry smiled, and they made their way through the trapdoor.


	26. The Finale

The Finale

Hogwarts fell into chaos in ten minutes of the Death Eaters sneaking into the castle. They started their assault on the Great Hall, moving from the third floor to the ground floor, the inhabitants of the portraits on the walls scrambling and yelling out as the Death Eaters rushed their way, one or two of them laughing as they fired spells at the portraits to make them fall. The group stood in front of the doors to the Great Hall. Harry was once again hidden under his cloak. Tom, looking like Voldemort stepped through the crowd of Death Eaters until he stood directly in front of the door. Raising his wand, he gave it a flick, and with the power of a hurricane, the doors blasted open, ripping from their hinges and slamming against the walls, creating such a ruckus that every single occupant in the Great Hall turned towards them, before being paralyzed, for just a second, in fear.

The Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw tables were full of students, the Slytherin Table devoid of people except those who were too stupid or listen. The staff table was full of its staff, Professor Umbridge sitting directly in the middle, in the headmaster’s chair. Silence fell on the Great Hall before screams erupted.

“Do not kill the children, they are useful,” Voldemort ordered and the Death Eaters ran into the room. Over the screams, Harry could hear Professor McGonagall’s voice screaming out, “PREFECTS GET THE STUDENTS TO THE COMMON ROOMS, THOSE OF AGE STAY TO PROFECT HOGWARTS!”

The Hogwarts staff rushed from their chairs to protect the students as the prefects did their best to escort the younger years out of the Great Hall through the side entrances. Harry watched as Professor Umbridge slipped away. He ran to Tom and whispered, “Keep them both occupied, no deaths. Wait until the Ministry and Order come here—they must see Voldemort!”

“What will you be doing?”

“Fulfilling a promise. Meet me afterwards, Dumbledore must find us together,” Harry said.

“Of course my love,” Tom nodded. The dueling began and Harry ran away under the cover of the Invisibility Cloak. He heard Professor McGonagall ordering someone to get the Order and stopped at the entrance hall. Harry threw off the Invisibility Cloak and looked around, spying a hint of pink running around a corner. _Going to her office, eh?_ Harry thought to himself. He began to walk up after his prey. He packed the Invisibility Cloak into a spacious pocket in his robes.

“Harry!” Harry turned to see Ron and Hermione running towards him, “Harry! Did you see—why aren’t in your—”

“I’m fine Hermione,” Harry said, lying quickly. “I’m looking for Tom. I’m not going until—”

“We’ll help,” Ron said.

“No, you two get to Gryffindor Tower, I promise as soon as I find Tom I’ll run to the dungeons,” Harry said. “Now go! Before the Death Eaters catch you.”

“Just promise to be careful,” Hermione frowned.

“Of course,” Harry smiled, and he ran away before they could continue talking. _Don’t think about them,_ he thought to himself, _just focus on Umbridge. Kill that woman._ He ran up a set of stairs and turned a corridor that led down to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and an office that he frequented throughout the years.

Just as with all other teachers, Professor Umbridge has left her own personal touch to the office as Harry made his way in. The room was now pink, behind the teacher’s desk was a wall full of memorial plates with cats and frills. Professor Umbridge was crouched by the fire, talking frantically. “There’s Death Eaters Minister! Death Eaters! You have to get me to safety this instance! Ohh!” she jumped as Harry closed the door. He whipped his wand and the fireplace went out. “L-Look here, I am High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, as well as the Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic himself!” she said, standing up shaky. “You will not harm me!”

Harry let out a soft chuckle, “Funny, I was planning on killing you, not harming you Professor.”

“Potter? Potter is that you?” Professor Umbridge asked, turning around. She looked relieved for a second before an authoritarian expression replaced it. “I demand what you were thinking Mr. Potter! Threatening your Headmistress like that!”

“I was not threatening the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Professor, I was simply telling you that I will not harm you, simply kill you,” Harry smiled. “You’ve been, well, simply an awful woman. Tedious, annoying, old-fashioned… power-hungry. And a horrible dresser and designer… I’ve heard of the things you’ve done to my friends, the detentions you assign. Very cruel Professor, very cruel.”

“Will you stop your blubbering Potter,” Professor Umbridge said, staring at the door afraid. “There are more urgent concerns now than your petty dislike!”

“You mean the Death Eaters?” Harry asked, cocking his head slightly. “Why should you be worried about them? They’re not the one in here, saying they will kill you…”

“This is not funny Potter,” Professor Umbridge said. “If you are going to stand there and do nothing, I suggest you go elsewhere before you attract the Death Eaters to me!”

Harry sighed, “Fine, fine, I’ll go… but first, _Expelliarmus_!” Umbridge’s wand flew from her pocket before she could grab hold of it. Twirling in the air, it landed neatly in Harry’s waiting hand as he pocketed his own. “My, this is a rather short wand now isn’t it?” he chuckled. “Though I suppose it’s mine now… for a little while at least.” He aimed the short wand at Umbridge and said, _“Avada Kedavra!”_

Professor Umbridge dropped to the floor, dead before she even began falling. The body slumped towards the fireplace and Harry smiled as he walked towards it. Grabbing Umbridge’s arms by her robes, Harry dragged the body towards the fireplace, her wand-hand dangerously close to the fireplace. “Incendio,” Harry said, using his own wand to light the fire. The fireplace roared to life and Harry positioned Umbridge, so it looked as though she aimed her wand at herself and fell, her wand-arm collapsing somewhat into the fireplace, her wand rolling into the fire. With the body positioned exactly as he wanted, Harry threw Umbridge’s wand unceremoniously into the fire and stood up. He did not watch as the wand cracked in the intense heat, embers of fire jumping from the fireplace as the wand slowly broke down. Instead he simply left the room, leaving the door closed, and locked from the inside.

“Well,” he sighed to himself, “time to get found by Dumbledore… but first, where is Tom?”

Tom has long abandoned his disguise as Voldemort. The fighting has now moved out of the Great Hall and was slowly taking over the castle. The staff and those of age were locked in battle with the Death Eaters. He heard someone shouting about the Order being on their way, and Tom couldn’t help but smile in glee. Everything was going according to plan. Now, he just needed to get Harry, and the two had to find Dumbledore.

He ran up a staircase and turned a corner, only to be stopped by a pair of masked Death Eaters. “Lookie here, an underage lost,” one said. “What’s the matter boy? Looking for your friend?”

“I don’t have time for you,” Tom sighed in annoyance. Pointing his wand at the nearest one, he said, “ _Avada Kadavra_.” The first Death Eater dropped dead and the second stared at Tom, suddenly panicked. He was killed with a second Killing Curse and Tom stepped over the two bodies to continue his search. “Mr. Riddle!”

He turned to see Snape staring at him, looking horrified.

“What? Are you going to stop me sir? You already had that chance in Honeydukes,” Tom smirked. “Now if you want to be useful, then make sure that the Death Eaters are the only ones who die tonight… except for a special someone.”

“Mr. Riddle, you cannot—”

“Too late Severus, I am,” Tom said dismissively. “You’ve already drew your cards so deal with the hand.”

Tom turned and continued his way, not caring about Snape or his actions. He started to walk calmly towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, but after hearing footsteps and yelling, decided that it would look better if he was running. He looked over his shoulder as he turned a corner to see an Order member running down the corridor, possibly looking for students who haven’t ran back to their dorms. _I need to find Harry before any of the Order members see me,_ Tom thought to himself, _need to make sure that we get to Dumbledore together._

“Anyone here!” It was Remus who was looking for students. “Run back to your dormitories! It’s not safe here!”

“Harry,” Tom sighed as he turned a final corner to see Harry walking down the corridor. The two ran towards each other, hugging. “Is it done?”

“Yes, she’s dead,” Harry nodded. “Made it look like a suicide.”

“Excellent love now let’s move, we have to make sure we’re found by Dumbledore! He should be here by now—”

He was interrupted by a large explosion. The castle shook, and dust came showering down from the ceiling. “The hell was that?” Tom cursed as the two rang towards the nearest window. Outside the sky was clear, the moon shining down upon Hogwarts. And in the distance, Tom could see Giants making their way to Hogwarts from the mountains, some carrying boulders the size of small cars while others wield heavy looking clubs that looked to be trees that they just picked up. “I did not order the giants! The hell are they doing here?” Tom grumbled. “At this rate the castle will be destroyed, or someone will actually die!” They watched as a giant hurled the boulder they were carrying. It flew into the air, momentarily blocking out the moon in its arch before falling towards the castle, slamming against it; there was a violent shake as more dust fell from the ceiling. The boulder rolled off the side, smashing windows and low gargoyles as it did so, before falling into a nearby greenhouse.

“Tom what now?” Harry asked. “The giants weren’t supposed to be here.”

Tom thought for a second, “Let the Ministry handle the giants, for now we need to find Dumbledore.”

Harry nodded and the two began to run.

The fighting has overtook the castle. Everywhere Harry looked, he could see Death Eaters locked into battle with Order members or Aurors. The walls were singed with ricocheted spells, portraits were decimated, their inhabitants screaming as they ran away from the battle. Harry swore he could hear a growl and looked to see werewolves rushing into the entrance hall. “Great, fucking werewolves too, somebody clearly doesn’t know how to listen,” he sighed.

“Damn it,” Tom said, looking openly frustrated. “This was not what I planned!”

“What are we going to do?” Harry asked.

Tom looked at the chaos below them. The werewolves attacked the Aurors, who immediately turned their attention to their new attackers while someone yelled for more backup. “Nothing,” Tom said. “We do nothing until we have the Elder Wand.”

There was another explosion, however this time a bright white light accompanied it. Through squinted eyes, Harry could see fire swirling violently in the entrance hall, the flames shooting out towards the werewolves and wrapping around them, burning the half men-half beasts as the flames gathered them together and forced them out of the entrance hall, some slamming against the walls while most flew into the open air. The fighting stopped momentarily in this blinding light, all participants turned to see the fire fade away and the light dim to nothing. In the clearing, looking untouched and with Fawkes the Phoenix flying over him, was Albus Dumbledore, the Elder Wand in his hand as he looked at the fighting around him.

“The old man really does know how to make an entrance,” Tom said. “Come on,” he grabbed Harry’s arm and the two began running towards the Death Eaters, their wands in their hands. “Stupefy!” Tom yelled in a loud voice, his eyes on Dumbledore to make sure he heard him.

The Death Eater he was aiming at fell down the stairs, stunned, and Dumbledore, as well as a few others, turn their heads to the young voice.

“Potter!” Bellatrix Lestrange yelled out in glee, Harry saw the woman at the bottom of the stairs, surrounded by Aurors. “ _Avada Kedavra!_ ” she screamed at the nearest Auror. She rushed through the group, her eyes dead set on Harry. Harry braced himself, his wand aimed at Lestrange when, by a flash of black fur, a great dog leapt over the two and crashed into Lestrange, the two of them tumbling down the stairs. The dog shifted into Sirius Black, who immediately began dueling his cousin. “Take Harry to safety!” He yelled out at Dumbledore, who was already running up the stairs towards Harry and Tom.

“Come along,” Dumbledore said briskly.

“But Sirius—”

“Can handle himself, now hurry! I must take the two of you into safety before Lord Voldemort finds you,” Dumbledore said, leaving no room for discussion. Harry looked back one final time at his godfather before turning back and running after Dumbledore and Tom.

“Sir, how did you know the castle was being attacked?” Harry asked.

“Professor Snape informed me that Lord Voldemort was planning an attack tonight,” Dumbledore said. “I knew that he would make his move some day soon, however I did not expect him to go after the castle like he did. Do you two know how it began?”

“We were in the Great Hall eating dinner,” Tom said. “The doors blasted open and the Dark Lord himself stood in front of us. It was chaos after that… we were ordered to return to our dormitories, however I couldn’t find Harry. I just found him and we were running back to the dungeons when you arrived.”

“It will be safer in my office,” Dumbledore said. “Kingsley informed the Ministry, Aurors are arriving in droves to help us drive off Voldemort’s army. However, I fear that they will all be inefficient in keeping Lord Voldemort away. Have either of you—”

“No sir, it was as if he vanished once the fighting started,” Harry said. Dumbledore frowned. He muttered under his breath, “Then he could be anywhere,” then looked back at the two of them. “We must hurry to my office then.”

Their pace increased, Harry surprised that Dumbledore could run as fast as he can at his age as they made their way up several floors and towards the Headmaster’s tower. The gargoyle that protects the entrance to the Headmaster’s Office stood silently until Dumbledore yelled out, “Iced mice!” The statue jumped out the way, and Dumbledore took the spiraling staircase two at a time, Tom and Harry following.

The Headmaster’s office looked as it ever was, with the strange instruments filling the room, some smoking, other bobbing, and even others making strange chiming sounds. Dumbledore closed the door behind Harry and silently locked the door. “You two should be safe here,” he said. “I will ward the door when I leave. Do not under any circumstances open this door until I return, do you understand boys?” Dumbledore asked, turning to Harry and Tom only to see their wands both aimed at him.

“ _Expelliarmus,_ ” Harry hummed, and Dumbledore flinched as the Elder Wand rocketed out of his hand, landing on the floor and rolled to Harry’s foot. Harry bent down and picked it up casually, examining the wand in his fingers. “Wand ownership can be won by defeating the previous wand holder, either through death or a simple disarming spell, once the previous owner loses possession of the wand, it recognizes its new master. True, the wand will always have a loyalty to it’s original master and not harm them… unless it is the Elder Wand, who passes from hand to hand in an endless cycle. Building up power with each new owner… I believe that is how it goes, isn’t that right love?”

“It is, my precious snake,” Tom smirked. Dumbledore was left in a state of numb shock as Harry made the couple steps towards Tom, holding out the Elder Wand.

“I’ve done it my Lord,” Harry smiled. “I’ve gotten you the Elder Wand.”

“As expected… from my most loyal follower,” Tom smirked. He took the wand and looked up at Dumbledore with cold, unemotional eyes. “I am so honored to have your trust old man, but I fear it was misplaced. _Avada Kedavra_.”

Dumbledore died with no explanation, no horror on his face, or sorrow. Just numb confusion as his body collapsed onto the floor. Harry and Tom stared at the body for a moment, giving Dumbledore a moment of silence. After five minutes has passed, the castle continuously shaking from the giants’ attacks, Tom looked at his lover. “Let us finish this my love. Together.”

Harry nodded and they left hand in hand, stepping over Dumbledore’s body and unlocking the door easily. They made their way to the Grand Staircase, which was still somehow in one piece, before the fighting once again entered their conscious. The Death Eaters were losing, the werewolves all captured or unconscious, but still there were dead. Harry rushed ahead, letting go of Tom’s hand as he made his way down to the entrance hall. “Sirius! Remus!” He called out.

“Harry! Get back!” Remus yelled out,

“Harry! Weren’t you with Dumbledore?” Sirius yelled out. Harry ran and saw that both men were busy fighting Death Eaters, Sirius with his cousin while Remus dealt with Travers.

“He’s dead,” Tom yelled, “Dumbledore is dead! Voldemort killed him!”

“Ha!” Bellatrix yelled out a victorious laugh. “Our Lord killed Dumbly-dore! Ha ha ha ha ha ha! Now cousin… make sure to tell him ‘hi’ for me will you? Avada—”

Tom snapped his fingers. Lestrange stopped quite suddenly, looking extremely pained. She bent over herself, and Harry watched as her veins became visible through her skin, becoming a hideous purple as Tom walked down the stairs in a coldly calm manner. The Elder Wand pointed at her. Sirius stopped and turned to stare at Tom as he walked down, Harry running after him. Bellatrix’s eyes started to bulge, her hands moved to her throat as she began gagging.

“Tom what are you doing?” Sirius breathed, staring at Tom in disbelief. Tom now stood in front of Sirius, glaring at Lestrange. His voice icy cold, and high, he snarled out, “You will not hard my father… die.”

Lestrange’s eyes stared at Tom with a sudden recognition as she fell to her knees, choking beyond any word recognition as she tried to form words. Her mouth began to foam, a disgusting acid-green foam bubbling out of her mouth, the purple veins pulsing violently. Then it just stopped, the veins disappeared, and Lestrange collapsed on the floor. Harry ran up to Tom and stared at Bellatrix Lestrange.

“She’s dead,” he said.

“I know,” Tom said.

“Tom… what were you thinking?” Sirius breathed, “You… you killed…”

Tom turned to Sirius and frowned, his eyes looking innocent as he pocketed the Elder Wand. “I just… she was going to hurt you,” he said. “I didn’t want you… I’m sorry Sirius.”

He felt arms wrap around him and Tom looked up to see Sirius hugging him. “I just wanted you to be safe,” Tom said.

“I understand, but you have to understand that…” Sirius let out a sigh and shook his head, “We’ll talk about this later, for now you need to get somewhere safe.”

Okay,” Tom nodded. Sirius took a step back and looked at Remus. The werewolf stepped towards Sirius and the two shared a look before nodding. “Hide in the dungeon boys, we’ll come back when it’s safe,” Remus said.

“Okay dad,” Tom nodded, Remus smiling blushingly at the word. Tom turned to Harry and took his hand. “Come on,” he said, and they made their way to the dungeons. _“Do you have your Cloak?”_ he whispered to Harry, who nodded. _“Good. Around the corner, take it out and put it on. We have some more things to do first…”_

Harry nodded again and they ran down the stairs, turning the corner and stopping suddenly. Harry pulled out the Invisibility Cloak and threw it over the both of them. “What are we going to do?” he whispered.

“Kill Voldemort, and his most powerful followers,” Tom whispered.

Harry grunted in acknowledgement and the two made their way up the stairs again. Remus and Sirius were gone from the entrance hall, as it looked as though the fighting has made its way outside. The two ran outside to see the fighting in earnest. Spells flying off of each other, Aurors and Death Eaters in a constant struggle as others deal with the giants that closed into the castle. Harry looked around and saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley with Tonks fighting against a single Death Eater. “Look,” he said, pointing to them. He moved to help but Tom grabbed Harry’s arm.

“They can handle themselves, stay focus,” he ordered. Harry frowned, but nodded once he watched Tonks stun the Death Eater and Mrs. Weasley conjured ropes to bind the enemy. “We need someone we can use as Voldemort… Ah!” He pointed and Harry followed Tom’s finger to see him pointing at the elderly Death Eater Yaxley. “You stopped me from killing him before, but now I think he would be the perfect candidate. After all, the man has no family.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded. “We’ve already killed… why turn back now?”

“I was hoping you would say that little snake, come along,” Tom smiled. Under the safety of the Invisibility Cloak, the two made their way further out of the Hogwarts into the field towards the battleground. Their eyes on Yaxley, they kept low as spells flew overhead. Harry kept looking around, keeping his eyes out for any of the Order members, making sure that none of them die. The worse he seen were cuts and bruises on them. Yaxley was fighting an Auror when they approached him.

Tom cleared his throat and said in a high voice, “Yaxley… meet me in the castle. I require your assistance in the Astronomy Tower.”

“My Lord?” Yaxley said, distracted as he looked around. Tom did not answer as Yaxley turned his attention back to the Aurors, quickly dispelling them then turned to the castle, running back.

“Let’s go,” Tom said. The boys ran back following Yaxley. They entered the castle, but while Yaxley turned to the marble staircase, the boys ran towards the dungeon, using the secret passages in the castle to make their way to the Astronomy Tower before Yaxley. Harry took the Invisibility Cloak off of them and Tom took out his new wand, whistling to himself as he produced a tall dark robe that looks like the robe he wears as Voldemort. They waited under the moonlight for Yaxley.

The door opened five minutes later, Yaxley saying, “My Lord—”

The Killing Curse met him, and Harry rushed forward to make sure Yaxley’s body does not fall down the stairs. The boy dragged the body towards the robes, and the two began dressing it, taking off the robes and clothes he was originally wearing, throwing his Death Eater’s mask off the edge of the tower, and putting the black robes over the body. Tom waved his Elder Wand and muttered to himself, letting the wand do the work as Yaxley’s body changed, the skin becoming paler until it looked a deathly white, his nose sinking in and features becoming serpent-like. His hair began to fall off and his limps started to stretch, bones crunching as they do so. Harry waited, letting Tom concentrate on his work until, at last, a dead body looking exactly as Lord Voldemort laid before them.

Satisfied with his job done, Tom pocketed his wand and looked at Tom, giving a satisfied smile.

“So, what now?” Harry asked.

Tom thought for a while. “We need to make it look like we are the victors. That both of us killed him. So that leaves dumping him over the edge out… Unless we do it at a lower level.”

Harry thought for a moment, “How about we do throw him over here, and make sure that people know that he fell from here?” he asked.

“How so?” Tom asked.

Harry smiled and aimed his wand randomly at the floor, “ _Bombarda_!” The floor shook, the explosion spell taking out a small chunk of the flooring. Getting the idea, Tom smirked and the two ran around the Astronomy Tower, causing small explosions everywhere. Back down on the ground, the explosions were starting to be noticed. Bits of the Astronomy Tower fell off towards them, a rather large mix of stone smashing into a giant’s head, killing him instantly. The Tower looked unstable, as though it will collapse at any moment. Then, suddenly, a body flew away, as though cast out of the tower, and flew toward the ground, landing.

Screams followed, “The Dark Lord! The Dark Lord is dead!” Someone yelled. The Death Eaters glared up at the Astronomy Tower, as did the Order Members to see two figures standing on the remains of the shaking Tower. Some Order Members ran back into the castle while the Aurors quickly turned on the Death Eaters, who quickly became disheartened and scared at the body of Voldemort.

Up at the Astronomy Tower, Harry and Tom hugged each other, grinning in victory. “We’ve done it!” Harry cheered.

“We did my love, everything didn’t exactly as plan… but the results could not be better,” Tom smiled. “Now, with the Dark Lord and Dumbledore dead, there will be a void in both the Light and Dark sides of magic. We will fill them both and unite them.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “But before that… I think it would be good for both of us, if we simply be Hogwarts students for our last two years.”

“Yeah…” Tom breathed. “We both could use a break. Come on, let’s go comfort our dads… knowing Sirius and Remus, I think we will be in for a long yelling session from Remus, before getting congratulated by Sirius.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “But what about the other dangerous Death Eaters?”

“Ahh yes,” Tom nodded. He looked out over the shaking Astronomy Tower and snapped his fingers, waving his wand as he did so. “There. They will be dead in five minutes. Come on love… let’s go be students.”

 

It was Mrs. Weasley who got to them first, followed by Mr. Weasley, Remus, and Sirius. The four of them looked relieved before coming incredibly crossed that Tom and Harry did something so recklessly dangerous. The two were rushed to the Hospital Wing while the adults handled cleaning up downstairs. Tom and Harry sat by a window and watched as the werewolves were tied together with ropes of silver and the giants were fought back into the mountains before they started fleeing. The wounded were escorted into the Hospital Wing as the dead were collected and placed in the Great Hall. Later that night, Harry was relieved to see that no Order members were placed in the Great Hall, which was instead full of Death Eaters and Aurors, as well as the bodies of Albus Dumbledore and Professor Umbridge. The “body” of Voldemort was left outside to rot.

Funerals followed, Harry and Tom having to attend Dumbledore’s funeral the following day. The Minister arrived, and Professor McGonagall herself personally escorted him to the body of Voldemort. It was surprisingly easy for Harry to put on a sorrowful face during the funeral, though Tom had a harder time as he kept touching and drumming the Elder Wand in his pocket. The students were sent home the following day. Tom and Harry got a compartment for themselves, and relaxed against each other, their jobs done.

Letting out a content sigh, Tom took out the Elder Wand and closed the blinds with a flick. “We’ve did it my love,” he said, examining the wand.

“We did,” Harry smiled. “How do you feel?”

“Powerful. Like I have the wand I was destined to have… and the boy I was destined to love,” Tom said. Harry giggled as Tom leaned over to kiss him. “So what shall we do now? Before we relax and be regular students for the next two years?” he asked Harry.

Harry smiled, getting an idea. He got on Tom’s lap and kissed him heavily. “We make love of course,” Harry smiled. “The blinds are closed the door”—he took his hand and placed it over Tom’s, aiming the Elder Wand at the door—” is locked. And I know a very good spell…”

Tom smirked, “Have I ever told you how much I love you Harry Potter?”

“You have Tom, and I love you so much more Tom Riddle… now shut up and let’s have some fun!”

END


End file.
